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
And as long as she was keeping secrets, Dempsey would do the same.
He climbed to his feet, holding the phone.
‘I need to take this outside.’
FIFTY-FIVE
With Dempsey gone, Grace thought through her options. Options which, when analysed, were reduced to one.
Of the few people on the planet who had her absolute trust, none were here. And none were accessible without putting both her life and theirs in jeopardy.
Which just left Joe Dempsey. A man already in as much danger as Grace herself, and who had proved himself more than capable of dealing with it. Whatever this thing was, it had thrown them together. If she was going to get through it – if she was ever going to return to her life – Dempsey was her best chance.
What was the saying? My enemy’s enemy is my friend.
We might not agree on exactly who our enemies are, Grace rationalised, but we sure as hell have the same people trying to kill us.
It made her decision a simple one. Grace would stay with Dempsey. She would go where he went, and she would help him to do what needed to be done. But she would not be anyone’s subordinate. She was an equal and she would be treated as such.
And so before she would agree to anything, she wanted to be briefed.
She was on her feet as Dempsey re-entered the room and closed the door behind him.
‘Was that Elizabeth Kirk?’
Grace had overheard Dempsey’s earlier call to his friend, Father Sam Cooke. It had been too risky to contact Kirk, whose phone records were no doubt already being scrutinised by the Secret Service. Father Cooke was based in the United Nations Secretariat Building, Dempsey had explained to her. He had access to Kirk, but would not appear anywhere on the White House’s radar.
The message had been a simple one. Cooke was to speak to no one but Kirk, and when he did so he was to hand her his own cell phone and tell her to call Dempsey on Ali’s number.
‘It was,’ Dempsey replied. ‘She’d already seen the TV.’
‘She knew you were alive?’
‘Hoped, I think.’
‘And me?’
‘Seems there’s been no mention of you yet, Agent Grace. Not officially.’
‘That’ll change soon.’
‘It will.’
‘And when it does? Where will we be?’
Dempsey hesitated. As if unsure whether he was going to share his plans with her. He moved in silence to the motel room’s only armchair. A battered fabric lounger, the kind no one had dared to make since the 1970s. He lowered himself into the seat, wincing from the pain in his shoulder as he settled.
Grace took a seat of her own. The end of the unused, poorly made bed.
‘I’m going to Afghanistan,’ Dempsey finally said. ‘That’s where this all started.’
‘How does this go back to Afghanistan?’
‘OK. Look, you know the president’s history. Probably better than I do. So you know he won his Medal of Honor.’