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He’s hurting but he’s content. He did the best he could, he held off the Chinese and the mercenaries, got Benjamin and Lin out safely, and if it ends tonight, well, at least it won’t be in an assisted living facility, eating oatmeal and crapping in his jammies.
Damn, the voices are coming back.
Just like those long nights at the Farm and—
Wait a sec.
They’re getting louder.
“Hey!” he yells. “Down here! Hello!”
More voices.
Things up there are being moved.
Voices louder.
The whine of a power tool.
He closes his eyes in relief.
He’s getting out.
He’ll have to come up with some story to bullshit his way out of here, but that’s okay. He’ll be free and alive, and that’s all that counts.
More voices.
He can feel bits of wood and brick shifting up there. He closes his eyes as flashlight beams illuminate his surroundings, and then a familiar voice comes down to him.
“Mr. Smith,” says Han Yuanchao, the Chinese intelligence officer. “So you are alive, after all.”
He blinks his eyes. “Sorry to disappoint you.”
A shrug. “One gets used to disappointments in our respective careers.”
“What now? The traditional bullet to the back of the head?”
The Chinese intelligence officer looks both surprised and insulted. “Why would I do that? The war our current nations were about to commence has been postponed. Your death will serve no purpose.”
“Good to hear,” Liam says. With his pain and thirst, that news is welcome indeed.
“To continue this hopefully new era of good feelings, my people will free you, apply necessary medical care, and return you to your consulate,” Han says. “Are my terms acceptable?”
“Quite acceptable,” Liam says.
CHAPTER 150
TWO WEEKS LATER
CIA DIRECTOR HANNAH Abrams can’t help herself from smiling every time she goes back to her office, for that damn government-issued foldout bed is still gone. It was highly improper, but she passed word on to Jean Swantish, her skilled and dedicated deputy director, that the bed should be incinerated in some GSA facility so there’s no chance she’ll ever see it again.
Waiting for her in her office are Noa Himel and Liam Grey, dressed casually, sitting in chairs in front of her desk, coffee mugs in their hands. Noa looks a lot better than the last time Hannah saw her, while Liam still looks worn down.
Both look nervous, like their careers are ending and jail time is waiting for them.
She says, “How are you both feeling today?”
Noa says, “Much better, ma’am.”
