Jack went back to studying the menu. “Drag makes the best disguises.” And after a disbelieving beat, “My choices were either do this using Clare’s ID or ride the hobo rails. I’ve gone soft for pillows, so Clare it was.”

Jill said, “Which stash did you raid?”

“Cleveland.”

“Clear it all out?”

“Every bit of it.”

“Clare knows?”

“I’ll tell her after, assuming we live.”

“Still no word from her?”

“No. But this isn’t her doing.”

Jill looked askance at him, as if she wanted to believe but couldn’t, and that brought a pause to the rapid-fire volley, which would’ve felt like the lead-up to a fight if Holden hadn’t seen it before and known it as a high-speed debriefing.

He shifted, got comfortable, kept quiet.

If the past was any indication, these two were just getting started.

Jack said, “I’m not saying she doesn’t know. She very well might be hanging around, watching the whole thing unfold. Hell, for all I know, she’s got a line tapped right into it, but one hundred percent, no doubt, she’s not the one driving it.”

The server returned, interrupting the conversation before it had a chance to get going again. Jack handed his menu to her and, without the slightest bit of apology, placed an order for the table. He waited until she’d gone, said, “We don’t have a lot of time, and there’s a lot to cover.” Then, turning to Jill and picking up where he’d left off, said, “Dmitry, the DNA donor, exists. He was the source of our tickets and the original invitation. I don’t know who he is and don’t know where he is. But he is alive, and he’s not our enemy.”

Jill said, “Proof.”

“A collection of documents that go back fifteen, twenty years—birth certificates, handwritten notes, times, dates, sightings—curated with the meticulous detail of someone who had a personal interest in finding us.”

Jill said, “Source.”

“Emotional blackmail handed to me by the guys who sideswiped him.”

She said, “Source.”

“Kremlin. Maybe GRU. Can’t confirm.”

She said, “Motive.”

“Active measures.”

She sighed. Sat back, slouched, and crossed her arms.

Jack said, “And I’m near certain the solitary spotter in Frankfurt was Dmitry.”

Jill’s eyebrows lifted in question.

He said, “Once all the other pieces connect, I can’t see it any other way. Clare might have dropped off radar within the US intelligence community, but Moscow hasn’t forgotten. In their eyes she extends to her kids. So going back to the beginning, right? Dmitry’s high enough up the food chain that he can afford the risk of ignoring policy in regards to her as long as no one takes an interest in what he’s done, so he sends us an invite. We say yes. But then, oops, the Broker gets dead.

“That throws Moscow into turmoil.