Julie bit her lower lip. Something was nagging at her, and she wondered whether she could trust Whitman. A deep connection ran between him and Sydny that made her envious of Sydny. Why couldn’t she have that? What was wrong with her? She intuited that Sydny held the answer, perhaps the answer to everything. If Sydny trusted Whitman then so could she. Her gut told her to go ahead, and she did: “There’s something you need to know. It has to do with this Lebanon mission.”

Whitman stiffened, a darkness coming into his eyes. “Explain, please.”

“Hemingway told Cutler that taking another run at Seiran el-Habib is now off the table.”

“Right. He’s slipped the intel leash; no one can find him. Cutler told me.”

“Yes, but it isn’t the truth.”

“What?”

“Seiran el-Habib is exactly where he has been, in that villa your team assaulted.”

Whitman couldn’t believe what he was hearing. “Then why would—”

“An action directive from POTUS via NSA, to bring in a major success.”

“Bringing Seiran el-Habib in would be a major success.”

“Except that the crisis in Lebanon has taken precedence.”

“Is this something you have verified independently or are you just parroting what Hemingway told you?” Cutler had sold this very same line to Whitman.

Julie’s silence spoke volumes.

Whitman sat back against the cushion. “Capturing and wringing Seiran el-Habib for intel would give POTUS more airtime than any target we could find in Lebanon,” he said. “They’re all lying. The question is why.”

At that moment, the car slowed, pulled into the curb, and stopped. “You’re home.” Whitman opened the curbside door. “A piece of advice, Julie. Never let them see what you’re thinking.”

“That’s so basic. Keep a poker face.”

“Believe it or not,” Whitman said, “there are agents—the great ones—who can read a poker face, or at least infer from it some things better left secret. No, what you want to show is emotion.”

“What emotion?”

“It doesn’t matter, as long as it’s not the one they’re expecting. It’s simple misdirection—a form of sleight of hand, the illusionist’s most intimate companion. You see what I mean?”

“I do, and I’m grateful.”

“One more thing. Pushing papers, as you put it, has two sides. Those papers contain important information. Information is power, Julie. Give that notion a thought.”

She nodded. “I will.” She hesitated as she was about to clamber over his legs.

As if intuiting her thoughts, he said, “What is it?”

“I should tell you…” Her head swung away as she stared out the side window. It was suddenly very quiet inside the car. Her head swung back and her eyes engaged with his. “I’ve been sleeping with your boss.”

Whitman seemed not to react at all. “You’re not surprised?” she asked.

Instead of giving her a direct answer, he said, “You’re Cutler’s conduit?”