Contents ( 84)
- ONE
- TWO
- THREE
- FOUR
- FIVE
- SIX
- SEVEN
- EIGHT
- NINE
- TEN
- ELEVEN
- TWELVE
- THIRTEEN
- FOURTEEN
- FIFTEEN
- SIXTEEN
- SEVENTEEN
- EIGHTEEN
- NINETEEN
- TWENTY
- TWENTY-ONE
- TWENTY-TWO
- TWENTY-THREE
- TWENTY-FOUR
- TWENTY-FIVE
- TWENTY-SIX
- TWENTY-SEVEN
- TWENTY-EIGHT
- TWENTY-NINE
- THIRTY
- THIRTY-ONE
- THIRTY-TWO
- THIRTY-THREE
- THIRTY-FOUR
- THIRTY-FIVE
- THIRTY-SIX
- THIRTY-SEVEN
- THIRTY-EIGHT
- THIRTY-NINE
- FORTY
- FORTY-ONE
- FORTY-TWO
- FORTY-THREE
- FORTY-FOUR
- FORTY-FIVE
- FORTY-SIX
- FORTY-SEVEN
- FORTY-EIGHT
- FORTY-NINE
- FIFTY
- FIFTY-ONE
- FIFTY-TWO
- FIFTY-THREE
- FIFTY-FOUR
- FIFTY-FIVE
- FIFTY-SIX
- FIFTY-SEVEN
- FIFTY-EIGHT
- FIFTY-NINE
- SIXTY
- SIXTY-ONE
- SIXTY-TWO
- SIXTY-THREE
- SIXTY-FOUR
- SIXTY-FIVE
- SIXTY-SIX
- SIXTY-SEVEN
- SIXTY-EIGHT
- SIXTY-NINE
- SEVENTY
- SEVENTY-ONE
- SEVENTY-TWO
- SEVENTY-THREE
- SEVENTY-FOUR
- SEVENTY-FIVE
- SEVENTY-SIX
- SEVENTY-SEVEN
- SEVENTY-EIGHT
- SEVENTY-NINE
- EIGHTY
- EIGHTY-ONE
- EIGHTY-TWO
- EIGHTY-THREE
- Acknowledgements
‘Can you believe anyone actually sleeps in this place?’
Her words were unexpected. They caused Dempsey to look around, to re-evaluate their surroundings.
‘It’s not The Ritz, is it?’ he replied, noticing the visible stains on the bedclothes. ‘You wouldn’t want to use a blacklight in here.’
Grace nodded. She seemed to be only half listening, as if the answer didn’t interest her. Dempsey understood why. She had been unable to think of what else to say, and so had filled the silence with an inane observation.
‘How are you feeling?’ Dempsey asked. ‘Now you’ve had time for things to sink in?’
‘What do you mean?’
‘I mean you killed your friend, Agent Grace. That’s going to be hard on anyone.’
‘Braddock was no friend of mine,’ Grace replied. ‘That asshole deserved to die. They all did.’
The response was unexpected. Dempsey had assumed that it was the man’s death – by her hand – that had thrown Grace.
‘Then what’s troubling you?’ he asked.
‘What’s troubling me?’ Grace sounded incredulous. ‘What’s troubling me? How about that we’re on the run from the Secret Service. From my Service. And how about that I can’t even contact anyone and hand myself in to smooth this whole thing out. After today, I don’t know who I can trust.’
‘You know who you can’t trust,’ Dempsey’s answer was blunt. ‘That’s a start.’
‘What kind of help is that?’ Grace seemed irritated. ‘What use is knowing for sure who’s against us? When we can’t be sure who isn’t?’
‘It’s enough that we know how high the rot goes,’ Dempsey replied. ‘You can’t trust Knowles and you can’t trust Meyer. Which means you can’t risk trusting anyone who works for either of them.’
‘But what if you’re wrong?’ Grace sounded uncertain. ‘What if this whole thing isn’t what you think?’
‘What do you mean?’
‘What if the mission to kill you . . .’ Grace hesitated. ‘What if it wasn’t exactly . . .’
Her voice trailed off. Dempsey looked at her, confused. The Secret Service had tried to kill him at the instruction of the president. She had told him that herself. He couldn’t see what the confusion was.
‘Agent Grace, if you know anything else you’re not saying, I need to know—’
He was interrupted by the shrill pitch of Ali’s antiquated phone.
Dempsey reached out for the handset and looked at the Caller ID. He recognised it instantly.
Father Sam Cooke.
He glanced at Grace. Moments before he would have taken the call in front of her. But now? She was hiding something and Dempsey had no way of knowing what that was. That alone did not make him doubt his instincts about her; she had saved his life and there was no way she would have turned on her own team – no way she would have played a part in their deaths – if she was loyal to whatever the hell was going on with Knowles and Meyer. But clearly there was something he didn’t know about.