She’d needed the numbers, needed them the way they’d needed access to coms in Bolivia, and she’d needed confirmation that Jack had tracked down the correct Liv Wilson, but what she’d really come for was the same thing that had made it crucial that they ensured no blame fell on the wrong shoulders.

Whatever Jack’s personal reasons for looking out for the woman, and no matter how much Jill personally liked her, and no matter that she didn’t deserve to take the fall for other people’s sins, Kara was going back—back to the kill team or to an analyst position or to her old station in the navy. Where didn’t matter, because where was irrelevant. She was a woman who had access to people who knew things, and having given this to them now, she’d primed herself for giving more.

Not next week or next month or maybe even ever.

But if and when that time came, she was a string to pull.

Clare had taught that lesson well.

Acknowledge a person’s deepest desires, guard their secrets, soothe their hidden shame, and reaffirm their worldview and self-image, and you got yourself a back door.

CHAPTER 34

CHAPTER 34

Bethesda
Maryland, USA

JACK

THE HOUSE WAS A MODERN TAKE ON A PENNSYLVANIA COLONIAL WITH a heap of McMansion thrown in, five bedrooms, seven baths, fully finished basement, three-car garage, large backyard, and a secluded pool, set back from the road and surrounded by mature trees on a half-acre lot in a stately, low-traffic neighborhood that made home security systems redundant, because even if random crime did stumble in, it’d get lost trying to find its way back out. Getting in unnoticed meant yet another night on the rough.

He’d laced into the trappings of a fitness junkie, parked a mile away, and headed out for a predawn run that took him to the homes on the rear parallel street. He loped through the shadows between them, working his way from backyard to backyard to reach his target, a far different environment than those Clare had thrown him into, but the basic rules never changed.

Don’t be seen. Don’t get caught.

He paused at the perimeter, searching for signs of dogs or young children.

No toys, no water bowls, no poop.

Were the weather warmer, more inviting, he’d crawl the exterior, hunting for an open window.

In this damp December cold there was no point.

He headed around the corner for the bay doors that faced a privacy fence.

He needed a silent entry.

That ruled out picking locks.

Even an unarmed security system still chimed when the doors opened.

The garage was the second easiest point of entry.