98

BEIRUT, LEBANON

Marcus sat bolt upright.

Sweat pouring down his face. Heart racing. Hands shaking. Images of Yigal’s and Kailea’s mangled, twisted, battered, shattered faces firing like a strobe light in his mind’s eye. For a moment, he had no idea where he was. He certainly had no idea where they were. But he had to find them. He had to. He would never be able to look their families in the eye if he did not. It was his job, his mission, his sworn duty to protect them.

But how?

For several minutes, Marcus sat there in the shadows, lights off, moonlight streaming through the open windows, curtains fluttering in the breezes coming off the sea. He was no longer hungry, but he was drained. Physically. Spiritually. Emotionally. He had nothing left. It had been all he could do to survive. To break free. To find shelter. But now what? Even if he were rescued, and that was by no means certain, how was he going to find two needles in a haystack of two million people? And even if by some miracle he could locate them, he could barely walk. Every inch of his body was in pain. His feet were no longer bleeding, but that was only because he had wrapped them in gauze from a first aid kit he’d found in the bathroom cabinet.

Marcus abruptly darted out of bed and into the bathroom. He went right for the toilet but not in time. Everything he had eaten before sleeping came up like a volcano. It was only a minute, but it seemed like forever. Sharp pains ripped through his stomach and chest. Then came another wave of vomit. Followed by another. Until he lost count. Until he passed out on the floor.

When he came to, he was covered in filth. As was the toilet bowl and the floor all around him. Forcing himself to his knees, he grabbed a towel and began mopping up the mess. In a closet he found a mop and some cleaning fluids and went to work. Tossing the used towels in a laundry basket, he stripped down and got back in the shower. But there was no more hot water, so he stood there in the cold until his fingers were wrinkled and blue.

Stepping out, he used the last towel he could find to dry off. He brushed his teeth several times, trying to get rid of the taste of bile, then went back into the bunkroom, found another pair of clothes, pulled them on, and climbed under the covers. He was shivering with a fever. His stomach still ached, though there was nothing left in it. His throat was raw. His eyes were bloodshot and moist. And he still could not sleep.

But he did.

He had no awareness of drifting off. He did not even recall his eyelids moving to half-mast. But suddenly he was no longer in Beirut but on the flight from Dulles to Tel Aviv a few nights before, in the last row of economy, his knees on his chest, sitting next to Kailea, getting grilled on a topic he had no wish to discuss.

“Hey, Romeo, why didn’t you tell me?” she had teased.

“Ki, drop it—I really don’t want to—”

“You know, Pete is not exactly happy with you these days.”

“Kailea, seriously.”

“McDermott says you asked her out when you knew—you knew—he had been in love with her for so long.”

“Ki, there is nothing in that sentence that is true—not a single word.”

“You didn’t ask Annie out?”

“No—she asked me.”

“What?”

“That’s right. And for the record, Pete hasn’t been in love with her. A crush? Sure. An infatuation? Maybe. But I called him the moment I got off the phone with her. I told him she’d asked me to the White House correspondents’ dinner. And I made it clear I’d say no if he wanted me to. But he said he was cool with it, said if he had really been in love with her, he would have done something about it, but he never did.”

“Wait, wait, wait—she asked you out?”

“What are you, deaf?”

Kailea smirked. “Maybe. But I just want to get my facts right.”

“Finally.”

“So she . . . ?”

“Yes, she asked me. Why is that so hard to believe?”

“Uh, partly because McDermott told me the exact opposite.”

“Well, he wasn’t there, was he?”

“So what happened?”

“What do you mean, ‘what happened?’”

“I mean, what happened? When did she call you? And why?”

“What do you care, anyway?”

“I don’t, old man. I just have a twelve-hour flight to kill, and I’ve seen all the movies on this plane. So spill.”

“I need a drink,” Marcus had said.

“Tell me about it,” Kailea laughed.

“Water, you idiot. Come to the galley with me. My legs are killing me.”

The two climbed out of their seats and headed to the back of the plane—not a long walk—where they asked a flight attendant for bottles of water and then picked up their conversation in a whisper since most of the rest of their fellow passengers were sound asleep.

“Look, it wasn’t a big deal,” Marcus began. “A friend of Annie’s from her Georgetown days covers the president for Reuters. She invited Annie to be her guest at the correspondents’ dinner last Saturday. Annie had never been. Thought it sounded fun. Went out and bought herself a new dress. And then the reporter wakes up Saturday morning sick as a dog and can’t go.”

“And?”

“And she gave her ticket to Annie and encouraged her to take someone else.”

“So she bypassed St. Pete and called you.”

“Not even close.”

“What do you mean?”

“She called Maya Emerson.”

“Really? Why?”

“After Carter’s death, Annie and Maya became close. Annie’s been going to the church pretty regularly and—”

“Same service as you?”

“No, she goes to the early one.”

“And you like to sleep in.”

“And you don’t?”

“Point taken. Go on.”

“Maya hardly ever goes out of the house anymore. No one really noticed during the pandemic, but Annie’s been worried about her. So she thought it might be fun to give her a big night out.”

“But?”

“Actually, Maya wanted to do it—but she had her grandkids in town that weekend and had to pass.”

“So Annie called you.”

“Wrong again.”

“Come on.”

“I’m just telling you what happened. You said you wanted to know.”

“I do, I do. Go on.”

“Fine—so she called Senator Dayton’s wife.”

“Esther.”

“Right.”

“And?”

“And Esther was back in Iowa visiting family.”

“You’re killing me with the suspense.”

“It was Esther who suggested Annie call me.”

“Really?”

“Yeah.”

“Why?”

“She was worried about me. Thought I needed to get out of the house more.”

“That’s true.”

“I get out plenty.”

“Yeah, right. Going out on the town with Pete and me and the guys from DSS doesn’t count. I’m talking about dates, geezer. When was the last time you left your retirement home, got out of your wheelchair, and actually took a woman on a real date?”

“No comment.”

Kailea laughed again. “Exactly. So, anyway, she just called you up?”

“Yeah, about 10:30 in the morning. I’d just come in from running. I’m soaked with sweat. The phone rings. I see her number and I immediately think something bad has happened in the world.”

“Was she shy?”

“Shy doesn’t even begin to describe it.”

“But she asked you.”

“Yeah.”

“And you said yes.”

“She said she was desperate.”

“She’d have to be.”

“You’re hilarious.”

“True, but irrelevant. Come on, Ryker, what happened at the dinner?”