“We either passed by two friends or two hostiles a few cars back,” said Devin. “One close to the intersection. The second on the other side of the street. Both sedans. The car windows are cracked open for air, which means they’ve probably been there for a while. I also saw some movement in the back seat of one of the cars. Very subtle, but definitely movement.”

“They’ve been here for a few hours,” said Berg. “To make sure Marnie hadn’t been followed.”

“They need to work on their surveillance fieldcraft,” said Devin.

“I’ll pass that along,” said Berg.

Devin watched the numbers on the front of the brick townhomes, stopping about two-thirds of the way to the next cross street, in front of a brightly lit redbrick stoop with a single black handrail, which pretty much looked like every other stoop in the neighborhood. He imagined this hadn’t been exactly the best part of town a decade or so ago. Fully rehabilitated now, but not much you could do with the squat row house facades.

“Seven-twenty-seven,” said Devin, raising his hand to knock on the door.

He’d be lying if he said he wasn’t more nervous about seeing Marnie than Berg’s mercenaries. A different kind of nervous. More like butterflies in the stomach.

“Hold up,” said Berg, checking his phone.

“I have a third surveillance vehicle down the road, before the next intersection,” said Devin. “Make sure that’s ours.”

“It is,” said Berg, typing a response on the phone before looking up at Devin. “They’re being extra cautious. Ready?”

Devin knocked on the door.

“Just remember. I need you to trust me. No matter what happens,” said Berg. “When Marnie opens the door, we get inside fast. Okay?”

“Are you sure everything is all right?”

“Couldn’t be better,” said Berg.

Marnie opened the door a moment later, smiling warmly.

“I thought you might have stood me up,” she said, glancing at her watch.

“Definitely not,” said Devin. “We just ran a little behind—”

“Why don’t we talk about this inside,” said Berg, basically shoving him into the town house.

Marnie’s smile evaporated as she backed out of the doorway, her lips pursing and eyes squinting.

“Devin. What the hell is going on?” she said, pulling him out of Berg’s way. “Who is this asshole?”

Berg shut and locked the door.

“My name is Karl. I was a friend of Devin’s mother at the CIA. Devin trusts me, and I need you to trust me. At least for a few minutes. Our lives depend on it.”

“What is he talking about?” asked Marnie.

“Karl. I think you’re being a little overdramatic,” said Devin before turning to Marnie. “I don’t know what his deal is right now.”

“Whatever it is, I don’t like it,” she said.