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He loomed over her. "You did talk to her. Right?"
"Yes."
He exhaled. She tried to pass him the cigarette again. He shoved it back into the package. "Where is she?"
Silence. He turned to Evelyn. "You talked to her . . ."
"I think so."
"What? How can you fucking think--?"
"I called her and someone answered, and I'm ninety percent sure it was her. But she was . . . in rough shape. I don't know what exactly happened, but she was trying to answer me and then she just couldn't. The line didn't go dead, and I kept trying to talk to her, but there was no answer."
Jack grabbed his jacket and strode to the door. Evelyn caught his arm, releasing it before he could throw her off. She sidestepped in front of him, blocking the door.
"What exactly are you going to do, Jack?"
"Find her."
"How? You have no idea--"
"Felix," he said and reached for the doorknob, but she slammed her hip against it, wincing slightly, the move not quite as easy as it would have been fifty years ago.
"Fine," she said. "You're going to call Felix and hope he can help. So call him. From here."
Jack shook his head. "On the road."
"Slow down."
He met her gaze. "No."
She returned the look. "Yes, Jack, because as guilty as you feel now, you're going to feel a helluva lot worse if you get her killed by wasting time running off half-cocked to find her."
"Wouldn't do that. I'll be careful. Just--"
"Do you even have your weapons?"
He had his main gun holstered, as usual, but hadn't taken his backups. He glanced over his shoulder at the duffel bag from his Washington locker. When he turned back, Evelyn had her own gun pointed at him.
"Slow the hell down, Jack," she said. "Or I swear, I'll put a bullet through your leg."
"That's not my leg."
"Close enough. Now call Felix and see what he can do."
Jack glowered at her, but the truth was he'd only been heading to his rental car so he could feel like he was taking action. So he could drive farther into Virginia and get closer to wherever Nadia was. It wouldn't make much difference. It would just make him feel better. Wouldn't do any harm, either, but he knew better than to call Evelyn's bluff. She'd shot him before.
He called Felix. "Dee's phone," he said when Felix answered. "I need to track it."
"I'd make some smart comment about the lack of pleasantries," Felix said in his perfectly-articulated English, "But I know you're not asking because you forgot where you're supposed to meet her for lunch. I presume there's a problem?"
"Yes."
"And you need to know where she is. But the thing about making a phone that doesn't register on GPS, Jack? It doesn't register on GPS."
"There's a back door."
"I don't believe I ever said--"
