Every investigation had a trajectory, but Jack’s mind worked in three dimensions. He saw the layers at work here: Carson, Xhafa, Annika. He now knew Annika’s connection with Xhafa, but not what she had been doing in D.C. For the life of him he couldn’t see the connection between Carson, Gunn, McKinsey, and Xhafa. Was it the Stem? The sex trade? And who the hell set out to frame Alli? The puzzle, complex as it seemed, had nevertheless taken on dimension and feel. It was the context that was missing. He was too close to the trees to see the forest. He needed to pull his perspective back and look at the disparate pieces as a whole.
At the same time, another part of his mind was busy working on the name equation he suspected would lead to Mbreti’s real name. Grasi = Thate; Mbreti = X. Despite his best efforts, it remained unsolved. And yet, he couldn’t help believing that the solution was right in front of his face. If only he could see it.
Turning his mind away from these conundrums, he smiled at Alli, grateful for the distraction. Let another part of his brain unravel them, he thought, while she engaged him in conversation.
“You’ve done extremely well with Edon,” he said. “I’m proud of you.”
She seemed stunned, and sat back in the seat. “Huh! No one’s ever said that to me before.”
“I’m sorry I’m the first,” he said with a wry smile, “but I’ll have to do.”
Impulsively, she left her seat to give him a kiss on the cheek. “Thanks for believing in me.”
“Always.”
Alli returned his smile, but almost immediately she became serious. “Are you going to tell me about Annika?”
“She’s in Albania, that’s where we’re going now. The plane will drop us off, refuel, then take Paull and the children back to the States.”
“You said you’d never see her again.”
“No, honey,
Alli’s eyes rose to engage his. “Do you believe her?”
“I wasn’t sure—until I saw the scars on Edon’s back.”
“Yeah, they’re just like the ones on Annika’s back.” Alli licked her lips. “She’s after Arian Xhafa, isn’t she?”
He nodded. “I wouldn’t bet against it.”
“But you weren’t thinking about her when I sat down here.”
Jack sighed. “Alli, Naomi Wilde is missing. I spoke to a chief detective who thinks she’s been murdered.”
Alli’s gaze dropped to her hands, which fidgeted in her lap. “I liked Naomi,” she said after a time.
“Me, too.”
“D’you really think she’s dead?”
“No way to say at this point.”
She picked at her nails, which were already bitten short. “What’s gonna happen to Thate?”
Jack shrugged. “That will be largely up to him.”
“You don’t have a plan for him? You have a plan for everyone.”
“I think you’re giving me too much credit.”
“Do you have a plan for Annika?”
He remained silent for some time. “It’s not just me who has a connection with her.”
When she gave him a startled look, he said, “What, did you think I wouldn’t notice?”
Alli was back to staring at her hands.
“Alli, talk to me.”
She heaved a sigh and shook her head as if to clear it. “Last year, when we were in the Ukraine, it was almost like…” Her words grew fainter and fainter until they faded out altogether.
Jack waited a moment, then leaned forward. “Like what?”
Tears grew in Alli’s eyes, glittering and fragile-seeming. “There were moments—at that awful restaurant, at the apartment—when we were like … like a family.” She almost winced when she said the last word. “Is that a horrible thing to say?”
He took her slim hands in his. “Why would it be horrible?”
She gave a tiny sound that was as much a sob as a bitter laugh. “Because, Jack. Because of so many things.” Her voice was a whisper. “Because she lied to both of us, because she murdered an American senator, because…” Her nails dug into his palms. “… oh, Christ, don’t make me go on.”
“Alli, look at me, we’re all of us angels and demons. We choose our paths, but there are forces, vast and hidden, that compel us into situations, sometimes against our will—”
“Are you excusing what she did?” It was less accusation than plea.
“I’m saying that when it comes to Annika the truth is always hidden, and when it does come to light—if it ever does—it’s far more complex, and conflicted, than we can imagine.”
She nodded. “That I can understand.”
He smiled. “I know.”
She withdrew her hands from his. He knew from experience that there was only a certain amount of physical contact she could tolerate.
“Where are we meeting her?” she asked.
“In Vlore.”
Alli risked a glance over her shoulder. “There’s something I want to ask you. It’s about Edon. Her sister, Liridona, is in Vlore. Edon doesn’t know what’s happened to her, but she’s deathly afraid that Xhafa’s people will get ahold of her; maybe they already have.”
“Alli, much as I feel for Edon and her sister, we can’t spare the time to—”
“You can’t,” Alli said. “But I can.”
THERE WAS a police boat waiting to take Heroe to Roosevelt Island when she pulled up at the dock in Georgetown. During the short trip over, she thought about Naomi Wilde and her sister Rachel. She herself had three brothers, scattered all over the world. One was a trauma surgeon in Oregon, another a lawyer at The Hague, the third an intel officer in Afghanistan. She had always wanted a sister, someone to help counter the testosterone barrage. She wondered how Rachel would take the loss of her sister. Coming after the betrayal of her husband it wouldn’t be good—by the looks of her she was already unraveling. She made a mental note to keep an eye on her in the coming weeks.
The patrol boat nosed into the island and Heroe hopped off. She turned on the GPS function of her phone.
“Give me a half hour,” she said, “before you come looking for me.”
The officer adjusted the boat’s GPS to home in on her signal. “What are you expecting?”
Heroe grimaced. “I wish I knew.”
“Good luck, Chief.”
Nodding, she pushed into the dense greenery until she found the boardwalk. She walked to her right. Finding nothing, she retraced her steps and continued on. Not long after, she discovered a branching to her right, and took it.
This boardwalk was shorter, ending at a small inlet that meandered off to her right. She took a look around and saw nothing but trees and underbrush. A bird sang in a branch above her head and water spiders skimmed across the surface of the shallow finger of water.
She was about to turn around and go back to the boat when something stuck in the periphery of her vision. Squatting down, she looked more closely. Off to her right there appeared to be a footprint in the black mud beside the water. It was a partial, but still. Slipping off her shoes, she stepped cautiously into the opaque water. It came up to her calves, but the mud was so thick she sunk in another couple of inches. Drawing her service revolver, she headed straight up the inlet. She was surprised that the water wasn’t cold. It was, instead, the temperature of blood. This thought sent a shiver down her spine.
Heroe was not prone to superstition, but from the time of puberty she had been visited by premonitions. They did not come often, but when they did they always proved correct. At first, she hadn’t told anyone about her visitations for fear of being ostracized, but a year after they manifested she could bear the burden no longer and, one night, she confessed to Granny. For a long time after she was finished speaking, Granny said nothing. Her eyes
