It was thirty-three degrees, the sky a gray bowl overhead, bare tree branches were being whipped about by gusts of a bitter wind. Olivia and Savich ran to Gay’s Honda, jumped in, fastened seat belts. Savich shot her a look, saw she was hugging herself, and switched the heat on high; right away warm air blasted into their faces. She met his eyes and nodded. “Never thought I’d be grateful to be freezing my butt off in mid-March.”

He laughed. “We couldn’t have ordered up better weather.”

“I can feel them watching. Do you see them in the rearview?”

“No, but they’ll follow.” Savich slowly backed out of the driveway. “I’ll pretend I’m trying to evade, but not enough to lose them.”

Olivia’s last view of the house was of Helmut sitting on his haunches watching her from the living room window.

A dazzling slice of sun burst through the gray. Savich nodded. “Now even our sunglasses make sense. Keep an eye out, Olivia, but try not to be obvious.”

“Yeah, yeah, you’re saying this to a CIA agent? You were right; they’d know right away where the new safe house is. And I didn’t tell anyone.” She fretted with her leather gloves. “So it has to be someone at Langley, someone with access. Gay knows it, too, and it really pisses him off.” She paused, turned to face him. “I hate it’s someone I’ve trusted with my life, Dillon. And I hate it even more that some of them still believe Mike is a traitor. Even Gay, though he didn’t come right out and say it because he felt sorry for me.”

Savich shot her a grin. “No, if he kept it to himself, it’s because he didn’t want you to deck him.”

He took another left turn, then another. Not much traffic on a Thursday afternoon, most people not out of work yet, heading home or to their favorite watering holes. “You know some of the questions about Mike’s loyalty were disinformation, Olivia, purposefully planted, and watered with great care. But it’s no longer a problem. Ah, there they are, the big dark blue passenger van, the Chrysler Voyager. Ruth said the license plate is muddied over, a pity.”

Olivia pulled out a makeup mirror and angled it so she could see the trailing cars. “I can’t make out the license plate, either, and CIA agents are trained to see through mud.”

Savich laughed, took another left, then right. “That should be enough. They’re good. If I didn’t know they’d be following, I might not have seen them yet.”

He turned on Wilton and drove straight toward High Point Mall, three miles ahead.

Olivia turned in the seat to face him. “I can’t believe I’m about to run an operation out of the ladies underwear department at Macy’s.”