“And then?”

“Be yourself. That move Ms. Khoza pulled with her press release was clever. He doesn’t know you were there. It’s not foolproof, and Eady’s no fool, but it opened us some space.”

“Space for what?”

“Get some rest, Tom. We’ll discuss it.”

Troy brought Klay a blanket and a pillow. He put his seat back and closed his eyes. He fought it but the movie in his head began to play: Sehlalo’s ankle pistol . . . surprise on Tenchant’s face . . . Hungry adjusting the bodies. The scenes speeding up, spiraling. Bernard’s smile . . . shots fired . . . brakes squealing . . . her red wool coat . . . “Wait for me” . . .

Klay sat up.

Barrow looked up from his paperwork. After a moment, he removed his reading glasses, set them on top of his papers, and rubbed the bridge of his nose. “You know what keeps me up at night?” He poured himself another drink. “It was that day in September. Whole city had a smell to it. Smell of what we used to call the ash can.” He tapped his pen on the table. His voice softened. “It was the people in the streets, you know? Not just that morning, with the dust on their shoes, but for weeks. Complete strangers saying hello to one another. ‘Are you okay? May I help you with that?’” He chuckled. “Russians called me at home. ‘You okay, comrade? Anything I can do for you?’”

“You were there?”

“I had a lunch date that day. Took the Amtrak up. It’s a habit, I show up early. Not early enough . . .” He coughed and cleared his throat. “It was my daughter, Julia. She loved her work, yessir,” Barrow said. His voice trailed off.

“She was there?”

“She was,” Barrow said.

“I’m sorry, Will,” Klay said.

“We looked at all sides of that date. Krieger, he’d opened up a small logistics company, registered in Cyprus. Called it Executive Prospects. Moved highly placed individuals out of harm’s way. A valuable service in a world gone mad. Invisible exfils. No fingerprints.”

“You mean for the Saudis who got out. Right afterwards.”

“Oh, the Saudis, sure. That prince with the embassy, the cousins. I’m talking about timing. Krieger registered that exfil company a month before the Towers.”

Klay stared at Barrow. “I never heard any 9/11 reference to Krieger . . .”

“No, I expect you didn’t. It’s not in those twenty-eight pages, either. Had to go to the FBI to get that information. Agent who gave it to me was working for Raptor Systems when I got a hold of him.” Barrow shook his head.

As the plane flew north toward Europe, Klay slipped back into his own thoughts. How many innocent people have died because of your lies . . . ?

“What happens to Krieger?” Klay asked grimly.