“Hardly. I want to have a face-to-face with Lilith.”

“Wear armor.”

They regarded each other for a moment, sharing without word all of the implications that were unfolding before them.

“Have you told Ledger?” asked Aunt Sallie quietly. “Have you told him what he’s really facing over there?”

Mr. Church’s eyes were flat and dead behind his tinted lenses.

“No,” he said. “He’s scared enough as it is.”

Chapter Forty-seven

Chapter Forty-Seven

On the Streets

Tehran, Iran

June 15, 11:04 a.m.

The call with Church did not exactly have the effect I was looking for. I wanted support, some fresh intel, and a clear direction. Instead he tried to scare the crap out of me—and maybe succeeded more than I’d ever let him know.

I sat on the floor of the deserted living room and checked Ghost again. He was not severely injured, but he probably needed at least a full day to shake off that Taser. So far I hadn’t given him ten minutes.

When I got to my feet and clicked my tongue for him to follow, he looked at me with huge eyes filled with equal parts hurt and disgust.

“Don’t look at me like that,” I told him. “We’re fugitives. No rest for the weary. Miles to go before we sleep, and all that.”

Nothing.

“Cobbler wouldn’t sissy out on me.” Cobbler was my aging house cat. He and Ghost had failed to bond. Spectacularly.

As Ghost finally hauled himself to all fours he gave me a look that could have chiseled my name on a tombstone.

I smoothed my clothes and ran my fingers through my hair, but I knew I still looked like crap. We slipped out the door and began heading toward the CIA safe house.

Even with a clean face and shirt, I looked like a street person, and I had a limping dog with blood on his fur. Not exactly the definition of nondescript, but as I walked I muttered to myself, reciting snatches of popular Persian songs and occasionally twitching my face and shoulder muscles. Even here, where suspicious characters are often questioned, no one likes to initiate contact with a disheveled man who is speaking to himself while twitching. People tend to pointedly ignore you, which is what I wanted. When anyone came too close I asked them for money, which usually guarantees that they quicken their steps while pleading poverty. A few threw blessings at me, which, hey … I took, all things considering. Twice people gave me money.

It’s a weird world.

Ghost and I kept moving.

Interlude Two

Interlude Two

Jaffa, The Holy Land

September 1191 C.E.