Grigor shot past West Fifty-Fifth and the Terminal in the taxi van, then swung around the corner of West Fifty-Sixth, speeding east down the one-way street. He tore past brownstone apartment buildings and scaffoldings and a coned-off road trench. He saw construction workers in hard hats and orange safety vests turn to look his way. Then he saw a delivery truck stopped ahead of him at the traffic light on the corner of Ninth Avenue.

He braked hard an instant before smashing into it. Snatched his pack off the passenger seat, grabbed the door handle. Then launched out onto the street and ran, leaving the taxi there with the door flung wide open.

He ran down Ninth, cut right, ran another block downtown to Fifty-Fifth, and cut left toward Eighth Avenue, tossing his cap and sunglasses into a trash receptacle. After a minute, he slowed to a hurried walk. No one noticed him on the busy side street. He could hear sirens howling and shrieking in the air.

14

April 19, 2024
CIA Headquarters, Langley, Virginia/New York

Langley

It was almost twenty after one when Michaels’s car returned him to the Visitor’s Control Center. He trotted inside, slid his badge under the window to the security guard, went to retrieve his phone from his locker and immediately saw the missed call and voice message notifications on his lock screen.

Morse must have tried him a half dozen times.

He stepped outside, holding a finger up to his driver. He wanted to play the messages before getting in the car.

“Alex, it’s Carol Morse. Call me ASAP. It’s urgent.”

“Hi, Alex. Morse again. Thought I’d give you another try. Same message as before. Thanks.”

“Hi, it’s Morse again. Sorry to bug you, but it’s urgent that we talk.”

“Alex. You know who this is. Listen, it’s the CloudCable thing. Leo’s men had an odd face-rec hit. A file came up. It’s the one, and that worries me. Waiting to hear back from you.”

Michaels stood outside the VCC with the phone in his hand, a surprised and apprehensive look on his face.

It’s the one.

He trotted up to the Mercedes and gestured for his driver to lower the window. “Better wait in the lot, Chris,” he said, wagging the phone. “This could take a few minutes.”

The driver nodded and swung into the large visitor’s parking area to his left.

Michaels tapped in Carol’s number.

Kali had barely started to talk when the admin knocked at the door. Three sharp raps. Morse glanced across the room, surprised by the interruption. What would make her break into a meeting? Carmody and Kali swiveled around in their seats to look.

“Come in.”

She stepped into the office. One look at her told Morse something was terribly wrong.

“Emma, what’s going on?”

She stood there mutely, her eyes wide and agitated.

“Emma?”