Moonlight cast harsh shadows around the abandoned train station near the safe house as Maggie and John Rae tramped through the skeleton of industry. The quiet rush of the Spree river was audible in the distance. Beyond that the indistinct sounds of a city at night reminded Maggie of where they were.
“The sixty-four thousand dollar question,” John Rae said, “is do we trust him?” His hands were jammed in the pockets of his pigskin jacket as Maggie walked alongside. Cool night air hinted at coming winter, helping her focus her thoughts.
“It’s too risky for Kafka to give us everything at once.” She could see her breath as they walked. “The moment he turns over Abraqa, his parents are compromised. He can’t afford to let that happen until they’re safe and sound.”
“If they’re still alive.”
She couldn’t disagree. “He was telling the truth about the Metro being late. That means Jihad Nation were probably planning to blow him up too. He has no love for them. I don’t think he ever did. He was easily lured away by Dara.”
“He was still ready to kill her.”
“Circumstances changed. They took his parents. And besides, he knows what happens if he doesn’t deliver Abraqa to us. We’ll have his parents as collateral.”
John Rae kicked a stone out of the way. “They’re a lot safer with us than Jihad Nation, regardless. That might be all he wants.”
“It would be Guantanamo Bay for him and a bleak future for his folks. He could be water-boarded until he talks.” She took a breath, exhaled vapor. “He knows that.”
“I still don’t like those suicide bombers,” John Rae said.
They stopped, looked at each other in the moonlight, both with hands in their jackets.
“Join the club,” she said, “but that’s the only wild card I see. We have to trust him at some point. And we have to do it soon.”
“You know what this means if it’s a fail, Maggie? If Kafka’s parents aren’t there? If they’re dead? If something goes wrong? Do you know what it means for your career at the Agency?”
Did she? She’d be relegated to that basement room on Golden Gate Avenue, sorting data cards no one cared about.
“Well,” she said, “I’ve always wanted to learn how to play the tuba.”
“I’m going to call Walder.”
“Thanks for the vote of confidence,” she said quietly, watching her words turn to fog.
He gave her a quick, intimate smile. Was he thinking about the other night? “You bet.”
Maggie felt a blend of relief and tension take hold. She was getting what she wanted. “I’m not going to feel good until his parents are safe.”
“But you’ll be sitting in San Francisco while that happens, drinking your nonfat latte.”
“No,” Maggie said, “don’t even bother. I’m coming with you. This is my op.”
“Maggie, your job is done for now. Until we get back with his folks. Then you can take down Abraqa.”
“I speak decent Arabic—unlike you. I look the part—unlike you. I even have a Jihad Nation passport—unlike you. So tell me again why I’m not suited.”
John Rae stood with his legs apart. “Because I’m not going to let you go down there.”
“You’re being protective. Sweet. But misguided.”
“I don’t care.”
“Kafka is going. I’m going, too, keep an eye on our asset.”
“He’s the tall Arab guy with the bruised face, right? I can watch him.”
She brushed her hair back with her fingers. “In that case, I’m going to have to dig up that ‘I don’t see how I can honestly work on this op anymore’ card.”
John Rae shook his head. “Not again.”
“A woman’s prerogative,” she said. “You said so yourself.”
John Rae took a deep breath. Twin streams blew out of his nostrils. “I should’ve known that would come back to bite me in the ass. I guess that’s all there is to it, then.”
“I like a man who knows when he’s beat.”
“It’s not just me you got to beat. Try Walder, especially if Ed throws a conniption. You’re not on Walder’s team. Yet. And even though this is the new millennium and all, sending a woman into harm’s way when they don’t need to just goes against the grain.”
“Even though a woman already gave her life for this.”
“Touché,” he said. He pulled a hand from his jacket, made a fist.
She did the same.
They touched.
“It’s a go,” John Rae said. “Walder gave it the thumbs-up.”
He was standing at the foldout table in the warehouse. Helga was packing away the computer they had used for the Creech drone session, and the rest of the gear. Maggie was helping her. Echoes bounced off the high ceilings as the lamps buzzed.
It seemed a bit twisted to be excited. But that’s what Maggie was.
“So what’s next?” she asked John Rae.
“Pack your bags,” he said. “We need to move fast.”