Eady went cold. “Check yourself, Thomas. This was not my decision. Krieger pitched the board in Davos. I was brought in after. For appearances, I expect. The family wants to cash out.” Eady cleared his throat. “In confidence, I did not support the sale.”

A phone rang. “Excuse me.” Eady reached into his jacket pocket. “I’ll call you back shortly,” he said, and hung up. “Wife worries about me day and night now.”

Klay’s sat in disbelief. Eady had cancer. The Sovereign had been sold to Terry Krieger and his mercenaries. From the corner of his mind he heard Bernard’s voice: Would you take Perseus Group money?

Klay was about to stand when he remembered why he’d wanted to see Eady in the first place. “I want to go back to the Philippines,” he said.

Eady sighed, and shook his head no. “I’m afraid that’s not—”

“I didn’t make the connection to Botha.”

Eady shrugged. “Perhaps you were right from the beginning: he’s not using the priest.”

“No,” Klay said. “He was there. I saw him in the airport.”

“Saw who?”

“Botha.”

Eady returned the nearly empty bottle of scotch to his bar. He stood with his back to Klay, looking out his window. “You saw Botha in the airport, are you certain?”

“Yes, Vance. There is definitely something more going on. The priest is a peace negotiator on Mindanao. Did you know that?”

“Was that in the file?”

“No. He had a photograph from the peace talks. I could come in that way. Do a story on the island’s politics.”

“No. First casualty of the new world order,” Eady said, turning. “You’re not going back there. Write up what you have on the priest. We’ll run it online.”

“I think it’s worth—”

“Damn it, Tom! He won’t print it! Krieger is a devout Catholic! Don’t you see? Get it to me. I’ll run it online before I leave. Sorry.” Eady shook his head, regaining his composure. “A lot on my mind.”

“Of course,” Klay said. Eady rarely raised his voice. “You’ll have it tonight.”

“Good.”

“Um.” Klay pointed to the ceiling. “And the public?”

Eady shook his head. There was almost nothing left of his office to conceal a microphone, but Vance Eady kept to his rule: no Agency talk in the office.

Eady got to his feet, “Sorry about all of this, Tom. I’m trying to get out of here before Monday, give my replacement an open field. Sharon Reif. She’s the future, they tell me. I expect you’ll find her . . . interesting. So, get the lay of the land and we’ll talk again. Have a drink at the club. We have some things to discuss. There may be opportunity here . . .”

“Opportunity?”

Eady smiled.

It was, Klay thought, a crevice anything might hide in.

CHANGE, MOVE, OR DIE

Sovereign Headquarters

Washington, DC