Elizabeth looked out at the flowers. She knew what her father would say, if he were alive.
You're on a slippery slope, Elizabeth. What about the rules of law? You can't break the rules just because there are others who don't follow them. If you act illegally because you think it's justified, you're no better than the criminals. Law is the foundation of our Republic.
The problem was that the foundation had been undermined by people like Harrison. People who felt safe because they knew those who believed in the rule of law were constrained by it.
"Elizabeth?" Stephanie waited for her answer.
"Do it anyway."
Stephanie started to say something, then thought better of it. "What about the team? Do you still want them going to France?"
Elizabeth picked up her pen and began drumming on the desk.
"What do you think?"
There was a reason Elizabeth had made Stephanie her deputy. She was smart and savvy enough to take over if she had to. Elizabeth respected her opinion.
"They're high profile now," Steph said. "Everyone is watching them. It might be a good idea to let things cool off some."
Elizabeth set the pen down. "These people have been ahead of us all the way. If there's something in France, they've probably found it. If they haven't, it doesn't matter. I'm going to bring the team home."
"Nick won't like it. He's pretty upset about Lamont."
"He'll get his chance. But now isn't the time to get even. Rice is keeping his distance. This has caused a lot of trouble for him. I can't risk another incident overseas. Not yet."
"What about the CIA connection? Are you planning to talk to Hood?"
Clarence Hood was DCI, head of the Central Intelligence Agency. He and Elizabeth had a good working relationship.
"Yes, but I don't think Anderson was acting under Langley's orders. He was Cask and Swords, class of '99. They're the ones behind it. This man, Harrison. I'm sure he's involved."
"How do you know?"
"Call it intuition."
Stephanie nodded. "That'll work."
CHAPTER THIRTY-ONE
The flight from Jordan to Ramstein took four hours. An ambulance waited on the runway to take Lamont to the Landstuhl Regional Medical Center and straight into surgery. He was out of their hands. At the base, they were assigned rooms reserved for officers passing through.
They met in the Officer's Club for dinner.
Ronnie looked around the room. "Not bad," he said, "but the NCO club is friendlier."
Nick had a black eye and swollen face from being kicked in the head. He had flashes of dizziness and a low grade headache. The doctors had told him it was a concussion, as if he didn't already know that. It wasn't the first time.
"What's the plan, Kemo Sabe?" Ronnie sipped a coke.
Nick had an Irish whiskey in his hand. He wasn't supposed to drink, but he didn't give a damn what the doctors said. He took a swallow. It hit him with a soft burst of warmth in his stomach.
"Harker wants us home. She thinks things are too hot right now."
"What about France?" Selena said.
"What about it? That chapel isn't going anywhere. Harker figures Ahmed would have told someone about what we found at Petra and the bad guys already know about it. If they don't, it can wait."
"And Lamont?" Ronnie asked.
"We won't leave until we know he's stable. It shouldn't be more than a day or two. Once he's out of danger, they'll fly him to Bethesda. He's tough. He'll be all right."
"I talked with Stephanie," Selena said. "Elizabeth is really angry about this. She thinks she knows who is behind it."
"Whoever he is, he'd better watch out," Ronnie said. "You don't want Harker mad at you."
Nick smiled. "No, you don't."
Later, back in her temporary quarters, Selena was getting ready for bed. Nick's room was in another part of the building.
She wrapped herself in a white robe and stood in front of the bathroom mirror, drying her hair. There were deep shadows under her eyes, lines of fatigue on her face. She ran her fingers through her hair. The Jordanian sun had brought out red highlights, rose red like the rocks in Petra, mixed with the blond.
Her 35th birthday was coming up. Not exactly over the hill, but the stress of the job was beginning to show. There was tension in her face that hadn't been there a year ago. Still looking good, though, she thought. At least that's not a problem. Not yet.
She let the robe fall open. She ran her fingers over the puckered scar low down on her abdomen where a bullet had nearly killed her. She let the robe slip to the floor and turned, looking over her shoulder. The scar where the bullet had exited was a rough, red ripple on her skin, next to a white line that reached to her buttocks and marked where the surgeons had gone in to repair her spine.
The weight she'd put on after being shot was almost gone, now that she could work out again. Physically she felt a lot like her old self. The mental part was a different story.
Something had changed. The jacketed round that almost paralyzed her had done more than put her in a hospital. It had left her with a sense of vulnerability that hadn't been there before. Before Mexico she'd felt she could handle anything, even after the close calls that had filled her life since she'd joined the Project. She was strong. She was skilled. She could kick ass. And now she knew that she could die just as quickly as the weakest person on the planet. Worse, she could be crippled for life. All it took was a well-placed bullet.
She wasn't like Nick and the others. Maybe it was their military background, some male thing. Whatever it was, the idea they might get killed didn't seem to bother them. They never talked about it. They didn't seem to worry about it.
Since Mexico, she worried about it. She covered her feelings up with flip remarks or black humor. Come to think of it, that was what they did, Nick and Ronnie and Lamont. She remembered Nick had told her black humor helped, back when she'd first joined the team. So maybe they felt the same way she did, they just didn't talk about it. Like her.
The thought was comforting, somehow.
She turned out the light.
She wished Nick was lying next to her.
Sleep wouldn't come.
CHAPTER THIRTY-TWO
"A cat?"
Elizabeth looked at the huge orange cat in Selena's arms. His ear was tattered and torn. He had only one front tooth. He drooled. He sounded like a truck in need of a tune up.
"That's not a cat. It's a fugitive from a zoo. You want it to live here?"
"He's not just any cat," Selena said. "Burps is a hero. He saved our lives in California."
"That cat," Elizabeth said. "The one that makes noises."
"Only when he eats too much. He won't be any trouble. Burps is an outdoor cat. He'll keep the moles out of the flowers. Steph and I will take care of him."
"I couldn't leave him in California," Nick said. "Think of him as added security. A watch cat."
"We need a mascot," Stephanie said. "A good luck mascot."
"I think he should live here," Ronnie said. "It lightens things up a little. I can make a cat door for the tool shed. He could go in there when the weather's bad."
Elizabeth knew when she was outnumbered. "All right."
Burps had been watching her. He purred louder. The sound rumbled across the room.
"See?" Selena said. "He knows. He's a very smart cat."
She carried the cat over to the garden doors and set him down. She opened the door. Burps looked, walked outside and sat down. He began cleaning his paw. Selena closed the door.
"I talked with Lamont's doctors," Elizabeth said. "They're keeping him in Germany for another day, then they're sending him back here to Bethesda. But he's out of commission for a while."