Afterward, Janson introduced himself personally to the young Greek who had the spur-of-the-moment ingenuity to seize upon and invert the one implausible truth—the truth that the drug merchant’s freighter had been boarded by accident—and so render his tale plausible indeed. The young man, Theo Katsaris, turned out to be more than just levelheaded, clever, and bold; he was also endowed with remarkable physical agility and had earned top-percentile scores in field-skill tests. As Janson learned more about him, he saw how anomalous he was. Unlike most of his fellow servicemen, he came from a comfortably middle-class background; his father was a mid-level diplomat, once posted to Washington, and Katsaris had attended St. Alban’s for a couple of years in his early teens. Janson would have been tempted to dismiss him as merely an adrenaline addict—and that was part of the story, without a doubt—but Katsaris’s sense of passion, his desire to make a difference in the world, was genuine.

A few days later, Janson had drinks with a Greek general he knew who was himself a product of the U.S. Army War College, in Carlisle, Pennsylvania. Janson explained that he had come across a youngster in the Greek army who had potential that could not be fully exploited by the routine of the Greek military. What he proposed was to take him under his wing and supervise his training personally. At the time, the leadership of Consular Operations was particularly attuned to “strategic partnerships”—joint operations with NATO allies. Under such auspices, Consular Operations would gain an asset in the short term; in the longer term, Greece would ultimately benefit by having somebody who could pass along skills and techniques in counterterrorism to his fellow citizens. The deal was done by the third cocktail.

Now, in the rear of the tiltrotorcraft, Janson gave Katsaris a steely look. “Marina know what you’re doing?”

“Didn’t tell her details, and she didn’t press.” Katsaris laughed. “Come on, Marina has more balls than the Greek army’s Eighth Division. You know that.”

“I do know that.”

“So let me make the decisions. Besides, if this operation is too risky for me, how can you in good conscience ask another person to take my place?”

Janson just shook his head.

“You need me,” Katsaris said.

“I could have gotten somebody else.”

“Not somebody as good.”

“I won’t deny that.” Neither man was smiling anymore.

“And we both know what this operation means to you. I mean, it isn’t just work for hire.”

“I won’t deny that, either. Arguably, it means a lot for the world.”

“I’m talking about Paul Janson, not the planet Earth. People before abstractions, right? That was something else we always agreed on.” His brown eyes were unwavering. “I’m not going to let you down,” he said quietly.

Janson found himself oddly touched by the gesture. “Tell me something I don’t know,” he said.