The majority of the residents, especially the ones who’d been held hostage at the pavilion—which still lay in ruins—had been provided a version of the facts, including Zack’s background and the motive. But a full accounting of the details had been reserved for those with the greatest need to know.

“Well, since that’s settled,” Steph said playfully, her green eyes dancing in the sunlight that poured into the kitchen from the backyard, “does that physical activity include joining me in the shower before I head to the grocery store? The kids won’t be home for another hour from their playdate at the Thomases’.”

Since the summer, Ethan and Addison had been having playdates with the Thomas children next door. They went back and forth, and today Sherry had the rambunctious group.

“I think I might be up for that kind of physical therapy,” Zack said, when the home phone rang.

“Of course,” Zack said, frustrated at the interruption. He loathed it when the phone rang, no matter who was calling. His time at home was precious, and every call was an unwelcome disturbance.

Zack walked over to the counter near the refrigerator and picked up the cordless voice-over-IP phone from the docking station. “Hello.”

“Mr. Chambers, this is Nick Phillips. I’m an executive for the director at your old employer. Director Jamieson would like to meet with you, preferably today.”

Zack had known since the day of the siege that this call would come. It was inevitable. He’d been debriefed twice by the FBI and their joint terrorism task force, but the CIA hadn’t reached out to him yet, although he’d known they would. They had to, since the entire affair revolved around them and their actions.

Zack mouthed the words it’s them to his wife, and she nodded, waiting patiently for the call to continue.

“We have a car ready to pick you up. Will one hour from now work?” Phillips asked.

“The timing will work perfectly, but make it ninety minutes, as my wife will be leaving then for the grocery store with the kids. There’s just one thing,” Zack said.

“What’s that, Mr. Chambers?” Phillips asked cautiously.

“After all that’s happened, you have a better chance of getting me to visit Moscow than return to Langley. Please tell the director that if he wants to talk—and I know he does—he can come to my home. I promise it’s a low-threat environment. He can even bring two of his personal security detail, but they stay outside. I’ve had enough gunmen in my neighborhood to meet my annual quota.”

Zack was impressed with the executive when he didn’t argue, even in the slightest, and said, “Please hold.”

There was a short silence of thirty seconds, and Zack smiled at his wife. He’s telling the director right now exactly what I just said.