She remained silent, but with the question out there, she couldn’t stay mute forever. The CIA directorship could be a pretty lonely place and it was getting lonelier for her every day. Would she allow herself an ally?

Kennedy reached for her tea and it was in that simple action that he knew he’d passed the test.

“Oh shit,” he said slowly. “You knew. You knew the whole time.”

She took a sip and then put the mug back down. “Yes.”

“Then I’m going to ask you again. Straight up, now. Scott and the guys?”

“They’re fine. As are Ward and David Chism.”

He leaned forward and put his elbows on his knees, letting his bodyweight sag onto them. Fortunately, relief and resignation read about the same from a body language standpoint. He really was deeply grateful that Coleman and his boys were okay. They could still be saved. But the Cooks were going to explode when they got confirmation that Ward’s and Chism’s deaths were all just an elaborate illusion. As usual in this shit business he’d gotten dragged into, the worst-case scenario was the one playing out.

“What the hell’s going on, Irene?”

“We had an incursion into our computer system. Marcus found it entirely by chance. Whoever’s responsible has extremely high-level access and the ability to cover their tracks to the point that even Marcus ran into a blank wall.”

“What did they get?”

“Information on Nicholas Ward.”

“That’s it? They were deep in our system and that’s what they went after?”

She nodded. “It seems that the information made its way to the Saudis and then to Gideon Auma so that he could attack Ward’s compound.”

Nash’s jaw tightened. “The Saudis. Remind me again why we don’t bulldoze that entire country into the Red Sea?”

Her only reaction to his question was a barely perceptible smile.

“Can I assume that Mitch was in Saudi Arabia trying to figure out the identity of our mole?”

“Yes.”

“Did he?”

“I doubt it, or he would have contacted me. With the mole still out there, we’re only communicating when it’s absolutely necessary. It’s impossible to be one hundred percent certain of any of our technology at this point.”

“Does the president know about any of this?”

“No. The possibility of a leak was too high.”

“Shit. He’s going to blow a gasket. Your chances of keeping your job just dropped to somewhere around zero.”

“My job security is my business. Besides, I don’t see me getting fired as being all that bad for you.”

“I don’t want your chair, Irene.”

Strangely, that was the truth. He didn’t want it. But with the storm he saw brewing, it looked more and more like he needed it.