“More than anything, it reminds me of our job on a Japanese admiral in World War Two. We were reading their code. Their guy Yamamoto was on an inspection tour. Our intel guys worked out the route and saw that on one tiny stretch of his flight he would be in range of our fighters. When he got there, the P38s were waiting and jumped him. Remember Pearl Harbor, and all that. Same thing here. Renegade’s in range for the few minutes he’s on the eighth green. Juba knew. Like the P38s, Juba was waiting.”

“And the cover story: New York? Did they just get lucky it was the same time?”

“Not really. They knew Mogul’s personality would compel him to show up Renegade. So they knew something would happen and that they could use it. That’s the kind of thinking the Agency people consider beyond the Iranians.”

She nodded, as if she understood or even cared. But it was clear she didn’t. She’d come for one thing, and, finally, it was all that was left.

“So I really came to ask a question,” she said.

“Figured as much.”

“How should I feel?”

“Pretty good, I’d say. You got him. Seemed impossible, but you got him.”

“I don’t really feel it was me. I had help from the best folks in the world. They believed, and, on that, I could keep going.”

“No, it was you. It all happened because you made it happen. The rest of us did our parts and got the screws tightened up real good, but no Janet, Juba gets away with it. No justice, nothing for Tommy, nothing for Baghdad, nothing for the bus, nothing for the New Mexico gun guy, nothing for the homeless fellows popped at a mile, nothing for a former president and the chaos his death would bring to us. We’re so fragile these days, maybe some kind of civil war. Nothing for the others on down the line that Juba would have put down. All that’s because Janet made it so.”

“Maybe,” said Janet.

“But you don’t feel any better, is that it?”

“Not really. Not where it counts. I’m a mom, that’s all. I’d rather have my son back than all that other stuff, and no matter how much of what someone calls good came from it, the price was too high. That’s how I feel.”

He didn’t say a thing. What was there to say?

“How long will that last?” she said. “That’s my question. You would know. You lost so many over the years.”

“Oh, you can do things. Help veterans, write an inspirational book, and if you make some money—and you should—endow a scholarship, fund a school, contribute, keep Tommy alive that way.”