“Let’s try another route. I can’t get to Peter Novak, or whoever is calling himself that. Who else do we know who might know?”

“Maybe not the people trying to stop you, but whoever’s giving the orders.”

“Exactly. And I’ve a strong suspicion I know who that is.”

“You’re talking about Derek Collins,” she said. “Director of Consular Operations.”

“Lambda Team doesn’t get dispatched without his direct approval,” he said. “Let alone the other teams we’ve seen deployed. I think it’s time I paid the man a visit.”

“Listen to me,” she said urgently. “You need to keep a good safe distance from that man. If Collins wants you dead, don’t count on leaving his company alive.”

“I know the guy,” Janson said. “I know what I’m doing.”

“So do I. You’re talking about putting your head in the lion’s mouth. Don’t you know how crazy that is?”

“I’ve got no choice,” Janson said.

Heavily, she said, “When do we leave?”

“There’s no ‘we.’ I’m going by myself.”

“You don’t think I’m good enough?”

“You know that’s not what I’m talking about,” Janson said. “Are you looking for validation? You’re good, Jessie. Top-drawer. Is that what you need to hear? Well, it’s true. You’re smart as a whip, you’re fast on your feet, you’re adaptable and levelheaded, and you’re probably the best marksman I’ve come across. The point remains: what I’ve got to do next, I’ve got to do alone. You can’t come along. It’s not a risk you need to take.”

“It’s not a risk you need to take. You’re going into the lion’s den without so much as a chair and a whip.”

“Trust me, it’ll be a walk in the park,” Janson said with a trace of a smile.

“Tell me you’re not still sore about London. Because …”

“Jessie, I really need you to reconnoiter the Liberty Foundation offices in Amsterdam. I’ll rejoin you there shortly. We can’t ignore the possibility that something, or somebody, might turn up there. As far as Derek Collins, though, I can take care of myself. It’s going to be OK.”

“What I’m thinking is, you’re scared of putting me at risk,” Jessie said. “I’d call that a lapse of professionalism, wouldn’t you?”

“You don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“Hell, maybe you’re right.” She was silent for a moment, averting her gaze. “Maybe I ain’t ready.” Suddenly, she noticed a small splotch of blood on the back of her right hand. As she examined it more closely, she looked a little sick. “What I did today, in those hills …”

“Was what you needed to do. It was kill or be killed.”

“I know,” she said in a hollow voice.