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If it was a signal to keep quiet, Olivia ignored it. “It seems likely they were there because of my last mission.”

“You were in Iran?”

Grace said, his voice firm as a judge, “We’ll leave off discussing anything concerning that mission until Mr. Lodner arrives.”

Savich nodded, said easily, “Tell me why you were in Walter Reed Hospital.”

“An RPG—rocket-propelled grenade—landed near me and the blast knocked me out. I woke up in Balad Military Hospital in Iraq.” She stopped cold when there was a knock on the interview room door and Agent Davis Sullivan stuck his head in.

“Savich, a Mr. Fulton Lodner is here from the CIA.”

Savich saw Olivia stiffen, but she said nothing, stared down at her clasped hands. He expected Carlton Grace would look relieved, like the cavalry had arrived, but instead he looked stoic, as if he knew there was going to be blood spilled.

After stiff introductions, Fulton Lodner sat beside Grace, clasped his hands in front of him on the table, and stared at Savich. He did not look happy, shook his head at the offer of coffee. He sat squarely in his fifties, his light hair thinning, mostly gray, and worn short. He looked like he didn’t compromise often, or wanted to. He was on the tall side, fairly fit, his slight paunch well disguised in a dark blue conservative suit. Savich saw calm intelligence in his eyes, felt Lodner sizing him up as well, imagined Lodner would rather shoot him than have to be in the same room with him and pretend to cooperate. He nodded to Grace, gave Olivia a stingy smile. He said in a calm, stiff voice, “Olivia, I trust you are recovered from your disturbance last night?”

That’s what that was? A fricking disturbance? Olivia nodded. “Yes, sir. I’m fine.”

Lodner continued in a sharp impatient voice to Savich, “I was unable to be here earlier because I wanted to discuss this unusual situation with CIA Director Hendricks. Agent Savich, you know as well as I do that any investigation you conduct into this situation is unlikely to bear fruit. We have resources in place, we know the players. It is very doubtful you’ll be able to find the identity of the foreign national Agent Hildebrandt was forced to kill last night. There is even less chance you will find the second shooter. In short, you face failure, which makes it more obvious that the only intelligent solution is for the CIA to continue working on this case ourselves, even without domestic police power, while keeping you informed, naturally.”

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