But suddenly she knew that she did have to go there again. If for no other reason than the fact that she’d had this crazy dream. She had to at least verify his death again. Now that the issue had risen from the grave, she would either have to live with its haunting or bury it once again. The realization blared loud like a horn.

Sherry swallowed and steeled herself against further sentimentality. God knew she had been through worse than this. Much worse.

“How would I verify it?”

“Call the government. Living relatives.”

“Most of his family came from Denmark.”

“Then living relatives in Denmark. Your mother was American, right? We can find an agency who tracks foreign deaths. Can’t hurt.”

Sherry nodded. They would only confirm his death.

CHAPTER ELEVEN

THE TWENTY-FOUR hours Director Friberg had given Casius to turn over his findings had come and gone. Casius had only gone. That was the problem. But then it really wasn’t such an unusual problem—not with Casius.

David Lunow sat across from Mark Ingersol, gazing through the tinted window at the CIA complex, suddenly wishing he’d brought the car after all instead of riding his bicycle. An ominous black sky dumped rain over the hills of Virginia, masking the skyline. Ingersol sat stoically with greased hair and furrowed brow. The door suddenly opened and Friberg walked in. He didn’t bother to apologize for keeping them waiting. He simply strode to the head of the table, sat carefully, and pulled his sleeves down, one at a time.

“So, we have a problem, I take it,” he said and then looked up at David.

“It appears so.”

Friberg glanced at the assassin’s red portfolio that lay square in front of Ingersol.

“Suggestions?”

Ingersol spoke, “Maybe he’s outlived his usefulness.”

“Sir, if I may,” David said, “Casius is the most active operative we have.”

“Active is not synonymous with useful, David. An operative is only useful if he can follow simple directions. It appears your man has a problem with that. He’s beyond control. Perhaps it’s time we put him aside.”

A chill spiked at the base of David’s skull. Put him aside? They all knew you didn’t just “put aside” assassins. You didn’t just give killers lunch money and drop them off at the next bus stop. You eliminated killers. Otherwise they might very well end up in your own backyard, killing someone you didn’t want killed.

David cleared his throat. “He’s on the edge, but I wouldn’t characterize him as out of control.”

Ingersol and Friberg both stared at him without responding.

“I really don’t see a reason to terminate him.”

“I think the man has outlived his invitation at the agency,” Friberg said.

David blinked. “If you’ll pardon me, sir, I don’t see it that way. A man who does what Casius does needs a kind of reckless confidence. We’ve lived with it for seven years.”

Ingersol cast a questioning glance at Friberg and it occurred to David that in all likelihood neither of these men knew the facts about Casius. He reached for the red folder and opened it.