'The F-106 from Holmstead should be landing soon,' said the station chief.
'I'm getting out.' Evan reached for the handle of the door and yanked it back. It was locked.
'I'd rather you didn't, Congressman Kendrick.'
'Let me out of this car.'
'Evan, it's his job.' Khalehla gently but firmly held Kendrick's arm. 'He has to go by the rules.'
'Do they include suffocating me?'
‘I'm breathing fine—’
'You're not me!'
'I know, darling. No one can be you right now.' Rashad angled her head and looked out of the rear window, scanning the terminal's buildings and the grounds. 'Our status is as clean as it could be,' she said, turning back to the intelligence officer. 'Let him walk. I'll stay with him and so can the men.'
'A “clean status”? You're one of us?'
'Yes, but you've already forgotten me, please… The flight to Washington's going to be rough enough.'
'Sure. We're okay. The guy who made up this rule isn't here. He just said, “Don't let him out of that vehicle”, in a very loud voice.'
'MJ can be extreme.'
'MJ…? Come on, let's get some air. Release the doors, please, driver.'
'Thank you,' said Evan quietly to Khalehla. 'And I'm sorry—'
'You don't have a damn thing to be sorry about. Just don't make a liar out of me and get shot. It could ruin my day… Now I'm sorry. It's no time for dumb wisecracks.'
'Wait a minute.' Kendrick began to open the door then stopped, his face inches from hers in the shadows. 'A few moments ago you said that no one could be me right now and I agree. But that said, I'm awfully glad you're you. Right now.'
They walked in a brief Bahamian drizzle, talking quietly, the CIA officer a polite distance behind, the guards flanking them with ominously drawn side arms. Suddenly, from out of the cargo area, a small dark car came racing across the field, its high-pitched engine screaming. The guards converged on Evan and Khalehla, shoving them to the ground, the CIA officer throwing himself over Kendrick and pulling the Rashad woman into his side. As quickly as the panic started, it stopped. There were rapid blasts of a two-note siren; the car was an airport vehicle. The leader of the motorcycle escort holstered his weapon and approached the uniformed man who climbed out of the small car. They talked quietly and the police officer returned to the stunned Americans, who were getting to their feet.
There is an emergency telephone call for your friend, sir,' he said to the station chief.
'Patch it out here.'
'We have no such equipment.'
'I want something better than that.'
'I was told to repeat the letters “MJ”.'
'That's better enough,' said Khalehla. 'I'll go with him.'
'Hey, come on,' countered the CIA man. 'There are other rules, too, and you know them as well as I do. It's a lot easier securing a single than a double. I’ll go and take four men. You stay here with the others and cover for me, okay? This is the meeting ground and you could have a nervous pilot on your hands looking for some special luggage, mainly you.'
The telephone was on the wall of a deserted warehouse. The call was transferred and the first words Kendrick heard from Mitchell Payton caused every muscle in his body to lock, his mind on fire.
'You've got to hear the worst. There was an assault on Mesa Verde—’
'Christ, no!'
'Emmanuel Weingrass is all right! He's all right, Evan.'
'Is he hurt? Wounded?'
