Again, she nodded.

He let out a long breath calculated to look like relief. “He has a way of causing problems, doesn’t he? The president is going to think Irene’s been holding out on him. The Saudis think he’s responsible for the deaths of three of their people. And I can’t get a refund on the caterer for his wake.”

“I’m sorry, Mike. I know how hard this has been on everyone. If there had been another way, Mitch would have done it.”

He didn’t respond, suddenly realizing he was blithering like an amateur. The tendency to run on at the mouth when you were under stress was something he normally wasn’t prone to. The problem was that he’d never been under this much stress. Not in combat. Not during the births of his children. Not when he’d woken up in the hospital after getting blown to kingdom come in Afghanistan. Never.

“I’m sure that everything will be clear once you’ve had a chance to talk to him,” she continued.

“When?” Nash said.

“Tomorrow.”

“Uganda?”

She nodded and slipped him a piece of paper. “You’ll need to drive north to this address. It’s a private airstrip. Be there at nine a.m. A pilot will meet you and take you where you need to go.”

Nash looked in the rearview mirror and waved through his window as the gate slid open. Anna was on her bicycle, steering confidently with one hand and returning his wave with the other. Claudia was at the front door watching the dogs bolt after him.

He thought that some of the weight pressing down on him would disappear when he cleared the fence line, but it didn’t happen. If anything, it got worse. He was already starting to see the world in terms of BR and AR—Before Rapp and After Rapp. His life would be changed forever. Who he was would be changed forever.

He glanced over at the phone lying on the passenger seat but didn’t reach for it. The update he’d promised to provide could wait. Instead, he just stared out at the road and forced his mind to go gloriously blank.

After an hour, he couldn’t put it off any longer. Reaching for the phone, he connected a wired headset and dialed a number that precious few people had.

“Hold on,” a familiar voice said when the call was picked up.

He waited, listening to muffled voices as a meeting was hastily adjourned and its attendees ushered out.

“Go ahead,” President Cook said finally.

“I’m on for tomorrow in Uganda.”

“Is there anything more you need from me?”

“No. I have people on the ground already. After this call, I’m going to have to go dark. Claudia will move me around until she’s satisfied I’m not being tracked. If anything looks even slightly suspicious, she’ll pull the plug.”