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“Good morning, Holly.”
“Good morning, Director.” Holly related her conversation with Felicity.
“I suppose we could call that progress,” Kate said.
“I suppose.”
“Do you think they’ll actually turn her over to us?”
“I declined the offer.”
“Oh, good. I wouldn’t like to make the next decision after that one.”
“I was left with the impression that MI-6 and especially the Foreign Office are not especially interested in hearing what she has to say either.”
“I expect we would see a brief news release from the FO saying that she was spotted, and after a brief exchange of fire, she expired of one or more gunshot wounds.”
“That would be the best possible ending for everyone, except the lady herself,” Holly said.
“Do we have the slightest reason to believe that she or her colleagues have the wherewithal to create another device?”
“Dr. Kharl is dead, and we know of no one outside a government facility who could accomplish that.”
Kate sighed. “Then all we have to worry about is governments.”
“The only conclusion we can draw at the moment is that this was a family cell comprised of mostly family members. It seems unlikely that any government, even Iran or North Korea, would wish to be involved in such an enterprise. The repercussions would be too great for them.”
“Thank you, Holly. The president and I are going to Georgia for a few days. If you’d like some time in New York, then stay on.”
“Thank you, ma’am. I’ll be available at all times, of course.”
“Of course. Good-bye, Holly.”
“Good-bye, Director.” Holly hung up. Oh, good, she thought, some free New York time.
Kelli Keane sat across the breakfast table from her boyfriend, James Rutledge, and stared over her newspaper at a row of kitchen cabinets.
“What’s up with you?” Jim asked.
Kelli jerked back to reality. “What?”
“For the past couple of days you’ve been walking around in a daze, and once in a while you look really angry.”
Kelli thought about how much she could tell him. “I’m trying to figure out a way around a promise I don’t want to keep,” she said, sipping her coffee, which had gone cold. She got up, threw it into the sink, and poured herself another cup. “More coffee?”
“Half a cup,” Jim replied.
She poured it, then sat down again.
“Your eggs are getting cold.”
She ate a few bites.
“I can’t think of anything you promised me,” Jim said. “We’ve never promised each other anything.”
“Oh, it’s not a promise to you.”
“Then to whom?”
