President Montgomery wasn’t a tall man, Roth had a good six inches on him, but he was as thick and muscular as a bulldog. Everyone, from New York Times cartoonists to the editorial board of the Economist, compared him to Winston Churchill. This was because of his physique, his manners, his clothing, and the enormous cigars he perpetually smoked. He’d won some notoriety for himself by lighting them up even in the nation’s most hallowed government buildings, driving zealous public health officials straight to their Twitter accounts in the process.

He had a cigar in his hand now, unlit.

Mansfield suddenly had a lighter in his hand and offered it to the president.

“Always ready to help,” Roth said.

“How about something to drink?” the president said, puffing on the cigar.

“Mr. President, if I can be so blunt as to get to the point.”

“By all means,” the president said, looking at Mansfield.

“My operation has been the target of a concerted attack.”

The president nodded. “Mansfield already briefed me on everything.”

Roth looked at Mansfield, who was nodding obsequiously at everything the president said.

“I see,” Roth said.

He would have liked to wring Mansfield’s neck for him. That would be one way of taking care of the nodding.

“Four strikes. All four assets out of action,” the president said.

“Yes, sir. Simultaneous actions in London, South Africa, Vienna, and right here in DC. I’ve never seen anything like it.”

The president looked at Mansfield. Mansfield gave him a knowing nod, as if to confirm something they’d both already decided.

“Roth,” the president said, “according to my NSA bulletin, your operation has been completely and irredeemably compromised.”

“I admit there’s been a breach, sir.”

“From what Mansfield tells me, every Russian agent from Saint Petersburg to Yakutsk has been poking around your hard drive.”

“I think that’s an exaggeration, sir.”

“In any case, Levi, your group is in no position to act on the current situation?”

“Without any assets, sir, I’m afraid that’s true.”

“In that case, I’m handing responsibility for this current bioweapon threat over to Mansfield.”

Mansfield, still nodding like one of those Elvis car ornaments, looked like he’d just been made hall monitor by teacher.

Roth hesitated. He wanted to speak to the president alone, but didn’t know how to tactfully get Mansfield to fuck off.

“How about something to drink?” the president said again, stepping toward the drinks cabinet.

“Mansfield,” Roth said, “have you got boots on the ground in Yekaterinburg?”

Mansfield looked at the president, and the next thing he said made Roth want to knock his lights out.

“I think,” he said, “given the compromised status of your group, that I should keep my operation as compartmentalized as possible.”

“Careful, Harry,” Roth said, jaw clenched.

“Why, Levi? Did I touch a nerve?”

Roth took a step in Mansfield’s direction. “What are you implying?”

Mansfield took a step back.