EPILOGUE

DENVER, COLORADO—MAY 10

United flight 212 landed just before 8 p.m. Mountain time.

Marcus Ryker had not checked any luggage, so he grabbed his carry-on from the overhead compartment, passed through the terminal, and caught a cab. As he made the short drive to Monument, gazing out at the snowcapped Rocky Mountains, Marcus finally let himself breathe a sigh of relief. His mom still did not know he was back in the country, much less heading her way. Stephens and Dell had insisted he not tell anyone, even her, that he was coming. They had even booked his ticket under an alias, so determined were they to keep the Ryker name out of the media.

As the taxi pulled up in front of his childhood home, a storm of conflicting emotions was building inside him. On the one hand, when he thought about everything he had been through over the past week, it was surreal to be back here, of all places. Yet the joy of it was offset somewhat by the pain and worry he had once again put his mother through. And then there was Oleg Kraskin, aka the Raven. He was living—and working for the Agency now—up near Aspen, only a few hours away. Marcus needed to catch up with him, and soon. But there was no way he could see his Russian friend on this particular trip.

Marcus paid the driver and walked up the driveway and onto the front porch. Spotting his mom’s rocking chair, he also heard her voice inside. She was talking to someone on the phone. Hoping to maximize the surprise, he did not walk right in. Rather, he rang the doorbell and waited with anticipation.

When his mom came to the door, it took her a moment to register what she was seeing. But then, rather than burst into tears, she burst out laughing.

Marcus, caught off guard, started laughing too.

Then she opened the screen door and put her arms around him. “Wow—it’s really you—welcome home, sweetheart.”

“Thanks, Mom,” he said, his eyes filling a bit. “I didn’t die, but I guess I did get arrested.”

“I suppose I’ll let it slide this time,” she whispered.

They stood there for several minutes, just holding each other and not saying another word. This woman was incredible, Marcus thought. He had always assumed that he had inherited his father’s courage and grit. But he was beginning to think it was just as much an inheritance from his mother. Yes, she had missed him. And yes, like any mother, she had worried about him every day. But she had not gone to pieces. She was a fighter pilot’s widow. And the mother of a Marine. She did not fret, and she did not gush. And he loved her for it all the more.

“You hungry?” she finally asked.

“Famished.”

They headed inside, and Mrs. Ryker made them a late dinner of steak, asparagus, and potatoes. And broke out a nice bottle of merlot. Marcus shared a little about his adventures, but not much. Most of it was classified, but that was not really it. There were some things you just did not tell your mother.

What he did tell her was they had tickets to head right back to Washington the following day.

“Washington? Good heavens, whatever for?”

Marcus explained that he wanted her to be his guest at the signing ceremony at the White House on Tuesday afternoon when history was set to be made. The Saudi crown prince would be there without his father, as the king, sadly, was apparently too ill to make the journey. The Israeli prime minister would also be present. And of course the president and vice president of the United States.

“It’s really happening?” Mrs. Ryker asked.

“Yeah,” Marcus replied. “It really is.”

“I can’t believe it.”

“I know—it’s crazy. This is the first new official peace treaty to be signed between Israel and an Arab neighbor since October of 1994.”

“That was with Jordan, right?”

“That’s right—signed by King Hussein and Yitzhak Rabin.”

“Has it really been that long?”

“Other than the agreement with the UAE, yes. I was just a teenager.”

“And you really want me to be there?” Mrs. Ryker asked, still incredulous. “That all seems too grand for me.”

“If you say no, you’ll have to take that up with the president.”

“Whatever for?”

“Because he’s the one who insisted that I come get you.”

Marcus’s mom sat there for a moment, her plate of food barely touched. Then she finally asked her son a question. “Sweetheart?”

“Yeah?”

“Maybe I shouldn’t ask this, but . . .”

“What?”

“I was just wondering . . .”

“Spit it out, Mom. What’s on your mind?”

“I was just wondering if there was any chance that you could get one more ticket.”

“Probably. Why?”

“Because there’s someone who would like to see you, and I thought that maybe you should ask her to come with you to the ceremony as well.”

Marcus could not believe what he was hearing. How did she even know about this? They had only gone on one date. And yet it seemed that everyone knew.

“Mom, I’m not going with Annie. It’s not exactly the kind of event you take a date to. And besides, she’ll already be there with Senator Dayton.”

“Annie? Annie who?”

“Annie Stewart.”

“Now why would I want you to go with Annie Stewart? Lovely girl. Don’t get me wrong. But what does she have to do with this?”

Marcus just sat there bewildered. Some spy he was.

“No, no—don’t be ridiculous,” his mother continued.

“Okay, then who?” asked Marcus.

“Maya.”

“Maya Emerson?”

“Of course.”

“Uh, I don’t think she—”

“You’re wrong, Marcus.”

“Am I?”

“Yes, you are. Maya and I have been talking all week, praying for you and catching up, and I’m telling you she feels terrible about how she left things with you, but she doesn’t know quite how to broach the subject. So I just thought . . .”

Marcus leaned over and gave her a kiss on the forehead. “Happy to—thanks.”

WASHINGTON, D.C.—MAY 12

The two of them took a Washington Flyer cab to the White House. It was a stunning spring day. Blue sky. Bright sun. Vivid-green lawns. Brilliant-red roses. And dozens of American, Israeli, and Saudi flags snapping in the refreshing afternoon breeze.

Everyone who was anyone in the Washington elite was there. At a private, off-the-record meet and greet in the Oval Office, President Clarke offered to seat Marcus and his mom near the front. Indeed, Prime Minister Eitan and Asher Gilad insisted upon it, as did the Saudi crown prince. Marcus, however, thanked them but politely declined. “It’s your day, gentlemen.”

“But this is history, Ryker,” the president declared. “It wouldn’t be possible without you, and you should be honored for your role.”

“With respect, sir, it is history, and I’m so glad you all have gotten to this point. But you know as well as I do that I’m the one who is going to be history if the Iranians catch a glimpse of me anywhere in this crowd.”

They laughed and agreed, and Marcus and his mom said their goodbyes to take their place on the lawn. As they headed through the West Wing, they ran into Pete Hwang and Bill McDermott. There were hugs all around, an impromptu reunion of the last survivors of their Marine Expeditionary Unit from so long before.

“We good?” Marcus whispered as he hugged Pete.

“Yeah,” Pete whispered in reply, slapping Marcus on the back twice. “We’re good.”

McDermott excused himself, needing to get back to the side of the principals. Marcus, his mother, and Pete headed out to the South Lawn and found a row of empty seats—the absolute last row, in fact. Far from the congressional leadership. Far from the diplomats and the Joint Chiefs. Far from the media and the rest of the Washington glitterati.

Unfortunately, Kailea was going to be in the hospital for some time. She was expected to make a full recovery, but she was in no condition to join them that beautiful spring afternoon. Likewise, Yigal Mizrachi was not well enough to make the trip with his uncle, the prime minister. He was in stable condition at Hadassah hospital in Jerusalem and had a long road of recovery ahead of him.

As the Marine Corps band began to warm up, preparing to play the national anthems of all three countries, Marcus was surprised to see Senator Robert Dayton and his wife coming up the aisle toward them. With them was Jenny Morris. And Annie Stewart.

“Ryker, I see you’ve got a few seats left there,” said Dayton. “May we join you?”

Marcus immediately rose to his feet. “Sir, you’re more than welcome, of course, but I think all the seats for prominent Democrats who don’t completely hate the president are up front.”

“Yeah, yeah, yeah—but we thought it might be more fun to sit back here in the cheap seats with all of you. Mind?”

“Not at all, sir. We’d be honored.”

The senator beamed, then reintroduced his wife to Mrs. Ryker. Marcus introduced Jenny to everyone but felt strangely awkward with Annie. His mother, though, gave her a warm hug and asked Annie to sit next to her. Marcus suddenly regretted that he had not yet told his mother of his romantic interest in her. Everyone shook hands and chitchatted. Then Marcus noticed that Pete gave Annie a hug. With the Marine band’s warm-up session growing louder, he could not actually hear what the two were saying, but it looked amiable enough, and Marcus felt himself relax.

At the last moment, as everyone was beginning to take their seats, Maya Emerson found them. She looked warm and flustered, and she apologized repeatedly for being late. She also gave Marcus a kiss on the cheek and whispered, “Can we talk after the ceremony?”

“We can,” Marcus whispered back. “But there’s no need, Maya. Consider it all forgiven and forgotten. Water under the bridge.”

“Bless you, child,” she replied, giving him another hug. “You’re a good boy.”

Marcus gave her his seat. The only space that remained was next to Annie, on the other side of Marcus’s mom, and that was where Pete was about to sit. Instead, Pete silently but most adamantly insisted that Marcus take it, while he headed for a seat at the far end of the row.

Reluctantly Marcus accepted it, sitting down next to Annie. Jenny leaned back, caught his eye, and winked mischievously, but before anyone could say anything, the ceremony mercifully began. The anthems were probably quite stirring. The speeches were almost certainly moving and historic. But Marcus would never remember any of it. It occurred to him how much Elena would have enjoyed being here and seeing this, and all at once he found himself missing her terribly. But in the end that thought, too, faded.

Later he realized he could not remember the cheers, the music, the standing ovation. He did not even remember watching the prime minister and the crown prince sign the treaty.

All he could remember was holding Annie’s hand.