Ingersol frowned and nodded. “Reasonable.”

“There’s more. The safe also contained a document that detailed the location of Abdullah’s base. Interesting enough by itself. But the location in question, an old plantation, was overrun by an unidentified force roughly eight years ago. A Danish coffee farmer, Jergen Richterson, and his family were killed along with some neighboring missionaries.” Casius fed them the classified details and watched Friberg’s eyes narrow barely.

“According to your own records, there was no formal investigation into the attack. Of course there were no survivors to push the matter either. Unusual, don’t you think? I believe the information I have leads to Abdullah Amir, and I believe that Abdullah will lead me to Jamal.”

Casius paused. “I want Jamal.”

“Do you snoop around our files on a regular basis?” Friberg asked quietly. “Where’s this document that supposedly shows Abdullah’s base?”

“I have it.”

“You’ll turn it over.”

“Will I? I want the mission.”

“I’m afraid that’s out of the question,” Friberg said. “The fact that Jamal may have been involved in your father’s death creates a personal link that precludes your involvement.”

“Yes, that’s your policy. Still, it’s what I’m demanding. You either assign me to run a reconnaissance mission to the region, or I do my own.”

“You do nothing on your own, boy.” Friberg’s neck flushed red. “You do what we tell you or you do nothing. Is that clear?”

“Crystal. Unfortunately, it’s also unacceptable.”

Casius faced Friberg down. He’d thought that it might come to this and a part of him welcomed it. He had hoped they would let him go—Jamal was a high-profile threat. But if they refused he would go anyway. That was the plan. That had always been the plan.

“Do you have the location with you?” Friberg asked.

Casius smiled, but he said nothing.

“Then you have twenty-four hours to turn it in. And don’t push us.”

“Is that a threat?”

“That’s an order.”

He had done well up until now, playing by their rules. But suddenly the heat in his head was mushrooming and the black fog was swarming. Casius felt a small tremor race through his bones.

“Good. Then I won’t threaten you either.” His voice was shaky and his face had grown red—he could feel it. “Just a word of caution. Don’t push me, Director. I don’t do well when pushed.”

Silence engulfed them like hot steam. David glanced nervously at Ingersol and Friberg. Ingersol looked stunned. Friberg glared.

Casius turned and headed for the door.

“Twenty-four hours,” Friberg said.

Casius walked out without responding.

It had started. Yes, it had definitely started.

CHAPTER TEN

Tuesday

ON MOST nights, Sherry read until one or two in the morning, depending on the book, depending on her mood. She would then nibble on some morsel from the kitchen and climb into bed, prepared to endure the last waking hour before sleep introduced the evening’s haunting dream—the same one that had presented itself to her every night for the past eight months. The beach one.