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Chapters (88)
  1. Titles by Mark Greaney
  2. Title Page
  3. Copyright
  4. Dedication
  5. ACKNOWLEDGMENTS
  6. CONTENTS
  7. Epigraph
  8. CHARACTERS
  9. PROLOGUE
  10. 1
  11. 2
  12. 3
  13. 4
  14. 5
  15. 6
  16. 7
  17. 8
  18. 9
  19. 10
  20. 11
  21. 12
  22. 13
  23. 14
  24. 15
  25. 16
  26. 17
  27. 18
  28. 19
  29. 20
  30. 21
  31. 22
  32. 23
  33. 24
  34. 25
  35. 26
  36. 27
  37. 28
  38. 29
  39. 30
  40. 31
  41. 32
  42. 33
  43. 34
  44. 35
  45. 36
  46. 37
  47. 38
  48. 39
  49. 40
  50. 41
  51. 42
  52. 43
  53. 44
  54. 45
  55. 46
  56. 47
  57. 48
  58. 49
  59. 50
  60. 51
  61. 52
  62. 53
  63. 54
  64. 55
  65. 56
  66. 57
  67. 58
  68. 59
  69. 60
  70. 61
  71. 62
  72. 63
  73. 64
  74. 65
  75. 66
  76. 67
  77. 68
  78. 69
  79. 70
  80. 71
  81. 72
  82. 73
  83. 74
  84. 75
  85. 76
  86. 77
  87. 78
  88. EPILOGUE

Catherine’s hands began shaking once they were moving and the reality of what was happening began to catch up. She got the feeling that she must have looked at this man at some point when he came up to her, but now she had not the faintest recollection of what he looked like.

“You are the man from the phone?”

“Yes.”

“But I said I wanted to meet in public.”

“Sorry. My rules today. You wearing a wire?”

“No.”

“What about a GPS tracker?”

“What? No. Why would I?”

He pulled out of the parking garage and turned right.

She said, “I . . . I didn’t see your face. I swear to God.”

“I know.” His reply was confident. He sounded so . . . normal.

“People know where I am right now.”

It wasn’t true, and he had to have sensed that, but his reply did not contradict her.

“I’m not going to do anything to harm you. I promise.”

Catherine said nothing, but she shifted in her seat slightly, and while she did so, her hands clutched her purse. The man behind the wheel reached over, took the purse from her, and then gently placed it behind him on the rear floorboard.

She did not protest.

They drove in silence for a full minute, heading north. Catherine kept her eyes straight ahead, her jittery hands on her knees. Finally she said, “You said you were ex-Agency. Was that true?”

“Yes.”

“And you know the man they are looking for?”

After a slight pause he said, “I am the man they are looking for.”

She closed her eyes hard. Furious with herself for not suspecting this from the beginning.

Her eyes reopened, and then her left hand slid back into the tight space between the center console and the seat. She started to turn to him to see if he was looking her way. But just as she began to look up he said, “Eyes out front.”

She locked her eyes forward, but her fingertips walked their way back a little farther, to the item wedged tight between the seat and the console.

While she did this Catherine asked, “What do you want?”

“The same as you, I guess. Information. Answers.”

“Answers? If you are who you say you are, you are going to have a lot more answers than me.”

“Don’t be so sure. I haven’t had the opportunity to interview a bunch of CIA execs on background.”

Catherine corrected him. “Just one.”

“Carmichael.”

Despite herself she nodded a little.

“Had a feeling.”

Catherine’s hand found what it was looking for. The plastic grip of her heavy stun gun.

Her kidnapper turned the vehicle off North Carolina Avenue and onto Lincoln Road NE.

“Where are you taking me?” she asked.

“I’d like to just drive around for a bit, if that’s okay with you. We can talk.”