“Next time.” Jed smiled. Despite not wanting to, he was starting to like the guy. Not the spooky cowboy image John seemed so bent on personifying, but the pro on the inside. The dude had delivered in spades, and Jed understood why Nisha trusted him. John was competent, cool under pressure, and didn’t blink in the face of danger.

John made some quip about cash bars and cheap dates, then made a show of looking out the window as if he was no longer part of the conversation.

Jed turned back to Nisha. “I’m sorry. You were saying?”

“Speaking frankly, Jed, I’m concerned that CIA is going to try and take control of the interrogation and custody of Dr. Zhao,” Nisha said.

“Is that the plan, Gayle?” he asked pointedly, turning to look at her.

“No,” Gayle said. “I have agreement from my boss that initial interviews will be handled by Trinity. I need to be present so CIA is in the loop on any actionable intelligence, but you guys are lead on this. The hard part is over. We got him out. My job now is to assist you however I can.”

“Sounds good,” Jed said and looked at Nisha. He wasn’t seeing the problem here.

“And then what?” Nisha pressed.

“What do you mean?” Jed asked.

“Jed, stop thinking like an operator. After we get what we need, then what? Do we hand Zhao over to CIA, where he’s pressured to build the same type of doomsday weapon for them that he built for the Chinese? That’s the endgame I see coming.”

“They wouldn’t do that . . . would they?” He’d not contemplated that scenario, but now that she’d put the bug in his brain . . .

He watched Nisha’s chestnut-colored eyes flash with something almost like rage—a memory of something in her past, perhaps, and part of what chased her out of whatever John’s spooky task force was and over to the Shepherds. He knew her well enough to know that she’d left her old life because she wanted to do the right thing. One thing was suddenly clear to him—Nisha was done operating according to an “end justifies the means” moral code.

“Jed, do you actually trust the CIA?” she asked, holding his gaze. “Because I don’t.”

“Can you promise us that CIA won’t drop this guy in some dark hole and make him build the weapon again?” Jed said, turning to Gayle.

“I can tell you he won’t be dropped in a dark hole, yes,” Gayle said, clearly offended by the picture he’d painted. “We’re not the bad guys here. We don’t disappear good people to black sites and order about minions like some Dr. Evil character.”

“Then you’re saying CIA will hold no stake in Zhao’s future?” he said. “After the debriefs, he’s free to go and live his life as he pleases?”