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“I’m here,” she says. “Just got off the train.”
“Well done,” he says, and the tone of pride in his voice nearly makes her shiver. “Walk north now, two blocks, and you’ll come to a park. At the south end of the park there is an outdoor fountain. I’ll be waiting there for you.”
“I…I so look forward to meeting you,” she says.
“As do I,” he says. “But you’re wearing the black dress and belt, correct?”
“Yes, yes, I am,” she says.
“Wonderful,” he says. “I’ll know you when I see you. But if for some reason I don’t show up in two minutes, call me again. Just to be sure.”
“I understand,” Nadia says. “We must be sure.”
“Goodbye,” he says.
Nadia slips the phone back into a pocket in her luggage and starts walking, allowing herself a moment to fantasize, to dream. This man…he sounds so strong, so confident, so fearless. After she delivers him the valuable case that represents nearly a year of fine and deadly work, well, what then?
It will be too dangerous to stay here, in the United States.
Go north, she thinks. To Quebec. Yes, there, in that French-speaking province, she will be able to fit in.
And…
A tingle of excitement nearly makes her shiver.
Perhaps this strong man will accompany her?
After all, he, too, will need a place of shelter.
She pauses at a street corner, and for some reason she turns her head. At the sight of One World Trade Center rising arrogantly into the sky, she smiles.
Freddie Farrady watches Mike take a phone call, then walk across Broadway to the southern end of City Hall Park. For more than an hour he has followed Mike all around this part of Manhattan, a boring stretch of time. But now he’s no longer bored.
Someone has called Mike Patel.
But who?
Freddie joins the frantic stream of people going across Broadway and keeps eyes on Mike, who doesn’t seem to care that he’s being followed.
But the phone call.
It’s the first time Freddie has ever seen the man take a call.
So who could it be?
A feeling comes to him so fast and so strong that he can almost taste it. Oh, to run up to Mike, slam into his back, and steal that cell phone—what he could learn if he did that!
A few more steps.
Yeah.
He’d learn what would happen after royally pissing off his MI5 supervisor here in New York: bounced out of the Yard, sent off to work foot patrol in a council-housing unit in Birmingham.
Mike stops near an ornate fountain shooting four jets of water that meet in a decorative centerpiece. There are two food stalls, kids running around and yelping, a guy in a mime’s costume juggling bowling pins.
Freddie stops, leans against a black wrought-iron fence, yawns like he’s incredibly bored. Or tired.
But Mike takes out his phone and makes a call.
