“First, those soldiers signed up for that,” Elliott said. “Special operatives know the risk, they know they’re putting themselves in harm’s way to save American lives. That’s their job. And when our people deploy, they go out there with a simple assumption: if they get in trouble, the United States of America will come for them. We’re not keeping our promise. How are we going to ask the next class of EIS agents to put themselves in harm’s way if we aren’t willing to protect this class? Huh?”

“I’ll keep you posted, Elliott. Go home. Try to relax.”

The line went dead. Elliott threw the phone across the room. The gray Ethernet cord that connected it to the wall yanked it back like a yo-yo and slammed it into the desk.

His door flew open, and Josh, his assistant, peered in. The younger man always stayed until Elliott left for the day. He looked down at the broken IP phone. “I’ll… call IT.”

When the door closed, Elliott took out his cell phone and dialed an old friend.

“I’ve got a story for you.”

“On the record?”

“Strictly off.”

“Related to the Kenya outbreak, or this new thing?”

“Kenya. CDC employees have been abducted. The White House knows. They’re not doing a damn thing.”

Chapter 37

Chapter 37

When Elliott got home, he poured himself a drink and downed it quickly. Then he had another, and sat in the large chair in the corner of his mahogany-paneled office, staring at nothing in particular. His eyes settled on a picture taken seven years ago, in Haiti. He and Peyton were facing the camera, his arm around her. It had been taken the day they found out there were no new cases in the cholera outbreak. That had been a happy day—one of the few during that grueling deployment.

He picked up the remote and turned on the flat-screen TV.

CNN has learned that the abduction took place in eastern Kenya, near the border with Somalia…

Elliott watched the rest of the segment. It ended with: The White House has issued a statement saying they are “following the situation and considering all options for the safe return of American and Kenyan personnel.”

He walked to the kitchen, looking for Rose, but instead found a whole, uncooked chicken in a glass dish on the center island, beside a few chopped vegetables. Rose had texted him to tell him she would cook, and he wondered if something had gone wrong.

Rose had retired from teaching when their first son was born. She had been a wonderful mother. After the death of their youngest son in the pool, she had dedicated much of her time to tending the garden they had created in its place—and to cooking the vegetables she grew there.

The oven was on. Elliott squatted down and hit the light. It was pre-heated but empty.

“Rose?” he called.

No response.