“Looks like a nightclub,” said Massina.
“We needed a place to entertain the VIPs,” said Johansen apologetically, leading Massina to the bar. He reached down and retrieved a bottle of Aberlour Scotch.
“None for me,” said Massina.
“Hungry?”
“No thanks.”
Johansen filled a highball glass halfway. “We really appreciate your help,” he told Massina, swirling the liquor gently. “Everything.”
“We’ll help in any way we can.”
Johansen savored a sip.
“Your unit tracking Ghadab,” he said pointedly. “I thought you were shutting that down.”
“We are.”
“Because we don’t want him knowing what we’re up to.”
“I understand. I want to help you get this bastard,” added Massina. “I’ll do anything I can.”
“You’ve done a lot. More than enough.”
“We can do more.”
“Some people in the Agency—” Johansen stopped short, then took another sip of the Scotch.
“Some people what?”
“You’ve been very outspoken.” Johansen was making an effort to keep his voice neutral; Massina felt patronized. “I think it would be better if you just took a step back.”
“Why?”
“Just… you shouldn’t be out front on this. Take it down a notch. Two notches,” added Johansen. “Seriously, anything you say — maybe it jeopardizes the mission on the ground.”
“How?”
“Back here. It’s complicated.” Johansen drained the glass.
“You want me to shut up?”
“I wouldn’t put it that way.”
“How would you put it?”
“Your appearances in the media — they draw attention. You don’t want that.”
“That’s true. I don’t.” Massina rose.
“Sure you won’t have a drink?”
“Positive. I have to go.”
Chelsea answered the door in her sweats.
“I didn’t mean to disturb you,” Massina said.
“Just studying my Arabic.” She held up a tablet. “Masa’ alkhayrsmall.”
“Good evening to you. But you’re slurring a bit.”
“You speak Arabic?”
“A few words. Business.”
“‘Udkhul. Come on in.”
The room was about the size of a typical business-class hotel room, with similar amenities. There were two upholstered chairs on the far end. Chelsea took one, Massina the other.
“I wanted to make sure you were OK,” said Massina.
“OK? Sure.”
“You can back out. Opt out. No problem.”
“Why would I do that?”
“I just want you to know I’m completely behind you, whatever you do,” he said. “I know this is dangerous.”
“Did Yuri put you up to this?”
“Not at all.”
“You don’t think I can handle it?”
“No. I just… want to make sure.”
Massina couldn’t find the right words. What were they?
I don’t want you hurt.
“I’m going to be way behind the lines.” Chelsea’s tone was insistent, as if she were announcing that the project she was working on would work, despite early results suggesting the opposite.
“OK. Good.” Massina reached into his pocket. “I brought you something. A watch.”
It was a Timex knockoff, its main attributes being the ability to show the time in two different time zones and its price: under twenty bucks.
“It doesn’t just tell the time,” said Massina. “There’s a locator in it. If you’re ever in trouble, remove the thin plastic at the back. Put it somewhere on your skin. It’ll send us a beacon. We’ll use it to locate you.”
“It’s a transmitter?”
“No, it’s passive. I don’t have the resources to outfit your entire team,” added Massina. “I’m giving Johnny one, too. If you’re in trouble, alert us. I’ll move heaven and earth to get to you.”
Neither one of them spoke for a moment, Chelsea looking at the watch, Massina looking at her. The watch contained a rare isotope that could be detected by a commercial mining satellite; removing the film created an electric charge from the skin strong enough to activate a molecular switch that released the shielding. The isotope was ridiculously expensive, and the satellite’s services — only leasable for a full year — exorbitant, but the real roadblock to building more was the switch: it had to be constructed in a specialized lab and took a little more than a week to align properly. Massina had hoped to outfit all of Yuri’s team, but there simply hadn’t been time.
“Thanks, boss.” Chelsea rose from the chair and hugged him. “Thank you.”
There were only two bars in the nearest town. Massina found Johnny and his friends in the first one he checked.
“Hey, boss,” said Johnny loudly. He had to shout to be heard over the blaring country music. “This is my boss,” he announced to the others at the table. “Louis Massina.”
“Looks like you’re all ready for another round,” said Massina. “I’ll get it.”
Johnny came over to the bar with him.
“I wanted to say goodbye,” Massina told him as they waited for the drinks. “And give you something.”
He handed him a watch. “If you get in trouble, pull the vinyl backing off. We’ll find you.”
“Do I want to know how it works?” asked Johnny.
Massina laughed. “Probably not. I don’t have the resources to outfit your entire team,” he added. “But both you and Chelsea have one. So…” Unsure what else to say, Massina dropped a hundred-dollar bill on the bar. “I have to get back to the plane.”
“You don’t want a drink?” asked Johnny as he started to leave.
“I have to get back. Stay safe.”
37
The pounding on the door was so loud it sounded like peals of thunder. Chelsea cowered on the bed, knowing that any moment the locks would give way.
It didn’t happen this way.
This must be a dream.
The terrorist barged through the door. Chelsea tried to get up but couldn’t. Arms and legs pinned to the bed, she saw him leaning over, climbing atop her.
Wake up! Wake up!
She screamed, and in that moment the nightmare evaporated.
Alone in the room, embarrassed, Chelsea sat up and curled her arms around her chest. She listened for a long minute, afraid someone had heard her. But there was nothing.
It was only a little after nine at night. Most of the team was probably still out drinking.
“Should have gone with Johnny,” she said to the empty room. “Should have gone.”
Her sweatshirt was soaked with sweat and needed to be changed. She slipped out of bed, pulling the shirt over her head as she walked to the dresser. As she bent down she remembered she’d already packed; all her clothes except what she was wearing and what she’d wear tomorrow were in the duffel bag by the door.
Naked, she crawled back under the covers, willing herself back to sleep.
38