Jack was also exhausted. He hadn’t been able to sleep on the overnight flight to London, partly because a man in the row behind him snored like a jigsaw ripping through a tin roof. He certainly couldn’t sleep in the stiff-backed Heathrow terminal chairs, anxiously waiting to board their flight while Paul worked his Sudoku puzzles.

Now that Jack was finally settled into his plush reclining leather chair, he could catch some shuteye. He stretched out his seat as Paul fired up his computer. “I need to keep working on my other project,” Paul said, but Jack was already sound asleep.

Paul worked diligently on the last spreadsheet he’d been combing through when he first got the call from Hendley and Rhodes. When the dinner service finally arrived he dove into it, and he ordered a cup of steaming-hot water for his private stash of chamomile tea just before he went to sleep.

When the breakfast service rolled around, Paul decided to wake Jack up with a gentle nudge.

Jack stirred out of his dead slumber. “Something wrong?”

“Heck no. Breakfast is coming and it smells great.”

Jack yawned and stretched. “Sounds good.” He raised his seat. “I miss anything?”

“Like what?”

Jack rubbed the sleep out of his eyes. “A hijacking. A monster on the wing trying to tear it apart. The usual.”

“No, not really. You’ve got a couple of options for breakfast.”

“I’ll have what you’re having.”

“I’m going for the full English selection. And just to be a little crazy, I’m going for the Earl Grey tea. I could use the caffeine.”

“Order for me—but with black coffee. Back in a flash.”

Jack excused himself, crawled over Paul, and used the cramped facilities, splashing water on his face and running his fingers through his hair to try and bring some order to the chaos on top of his head. He checked the scabbing razor nicks on his face and hoped he could buy or beg a toothbrush and toothpaste from the flight attendant before they landed.

Jack made his way back up the aisle, passing three men scattered around the cabin, a German, a Bulgarian, and a Ukrainian. Jack didn’t notice them. He wasn’t supposed to.

But each of them was keenly aware of Paul Brown.

The “Singapore girl” flight attendant, wearing the airline’s distinctively colorful sarong kebaya, arrived with breakfast just as Jack retook his seat. His mouth watered as he started tucking in.

As they ate, Jack decided to pick up where they last left off on the flight to London, hoping Paul’s defenses were finally down.

“I never did thank you properly for that Singapore Sling.”

“I had two. Knocked me out cold.”

“I take it you and Senator Rhodes have a history.”

Paul chewed a crumbling biscuit. “We worked together a long time ago.”

“Just like you and that Virgin Atlantic captain.”

“Something like that.”