The entrance ramp to the highway was maybe two hundred yards away, and Jake aimed the Fiat right toward it as he climbed through the gears. He was nearly at the ramp when he checked his rearview mirror. There was still no sign of the Škoda. At the last second, he veered away and made a quick right into a dense commercial area bordering the highway. He glanced at the car’s GPS as he made turn after turn, ensuring that he never wound up on a long straightaway, bottled up in a dead-end, or visible from the highway. The GPS dutifully recalculated his route with each turn until Jake was confident that he’d lost the tail. He took side roads the rest of the way to Vouliagmeni.

The gates to the Romanos estate were open, and Jake followed the winding driveway through the olive orchard and parked the car directly in front of the house.

Giánnis was in the dining room overlooking the sea, eating dinner with another man about his age. Jake headed out to the terrace. Athena was lying on a lounge chair, reading a novel under the outdoor lights. It was a warm night and she was dressed in a bright blue sundress and casual shoes. She looked as relaxed as he’d ever seen her. He sat on the chair next to her and their knees touched.

“I’m glad you’re back,” she said, “but maybe you should tell me why you came.”

“Do you remember when you told me that I should be thinking about my future?”

Of course she remembered. It had been during their last visit, standing side-by-side on the beach on another warm night, and she’d been disappointed and hurt after Jake had walled himself off emotionally and returned to Africa, but she’d buried her feelings down deep, in the pit of her heart where she kept all the other tragedies of her life. It was a coping mechanism that got her through the long days and the lonely nights.

“Vaguely,” she said.

She could play defense too, if that was what it took to avoid getting hurt again.

“Well, I wasn’t ready to get into it then, but I am now.”

He couldn’t ignore it when Clements, Graves, and Athena all told Jake that he should be thinking about his future. His unusual career had forced a number of issues to the surface, and he needed to deal with them. He hadn’t joined CIA to empower warlords. The plan had been to stop men like Yaxaas from acquiring weapons of mass destruction, not enable them.

Jake set down his duffel bag and took her hand. It was cool and soft, but it felt like a bolt of lightning.

“On one condition,” she said as she closed her book. “Regardless of what you decide, promise that you’ll still be here for Christmas.”

“I’ll be here by the twenty-fourth,” he promised.