“Until a few hours ago, I expected to be flying to Crimea to do that,” Kali said. “I couldn’t be sure any information I shared with you was safe from him.”

Morse shook her head. “No. That doesn’t wash. Screw you and your secrets. I should have listened to Howard all along.”

Silence in the room. Kali crossed her arms and looked at her. “Think whatever you choose. It’s your right.”

“Duchess, my two cents,” Carmody said, “I think Petrovik wants scenes like this. Wants everyone and everything in the world going at it. China, Russia, the United States. All of us in this room. I think he wants to see the sky fall down.”

“You don’t know that,” Morse said. “It’s an opinion again.”

“Maybe. But it’s his MO. Based on what I do know.”

Morse took a breath, turning to Kali again. “I presume you haven’t had a chance to tell Mike about the cargo ship?”

She shook her head.

Carmody looked from one to the other. “What are you talking about?”

“In a minute,” Morse said. “Let’s get back to Wendell Balen. I told you he contacted his secretary two weeks ago. He’d cut the specialty honey deal, and was supposed to be heading back to the States to meet with potential retail distributors. New York was first up in his itinerary. Then Hawaii.”

Carmody was quiet a moment. Then he said, “You think Malkira might be headed there?”

Morse looked at him.

“He’s already on his way,” she said.

19

Various Locales
April 19–20, 2024

Teterboro Airport, New Jersey

Nick DeBattista was about to head home from the airport for the night when his phone rang.

“Great Circle Charter.”

“Nick. Carmody.”

“Great. I’m hanging up.”

“I need to get to Hawaii.”

“I’m hanging up.”

“There’ll be the same number of passengers as before.”

“What before? There was no before. I got my Falcon ready for you at a huge financial loss to myself. I won’t even give you the dollar figure. But you crapped out.”

“When can you have it ready for me?”

“Fuck you, Carmody. I was flying you to Romania today. I had my fucking bags packed.”

“Nick—”

“Don’t Nick me. You think I run a bus line for old ladies playing the slots in Atlantic City? You were getting a Falcon. Practically a fighter jet. A fucking Mach nine-two-five fighter jet. For free.”

“Nick, I need it tonight.”

“Yeah, well, of course. I just told you. It isn’t happening.”

“What time can you have it ready?”

“Take care, Carmody. Enjoy the rest of your life. And go fuck yourself while you’re at it.”

“Nick. I need to get to Hawaii right away. I need the plane. And this time I can get you paid.”

DeBattista stared out the window of his office trailer, the receiver to his ear.

“You hit the lottery or something?”

“I’m talking government funds.”

“Seriously?”