Page 138

Ralph comes in, face tense. “Ma’am?”
“Yes?”
“We’re under attack.”
CHAPTER 114
THERE’VE BEEN SOME sharp words between Liam Grey and Lin, who is gently caressing Benjamin’s forehead, but Benjamin doesn’t care. He’s lying down in the rear of the Cherokee, and even with the aches, throbs, and jolts of pain, he feels like he’s in bliss. His legs are twisted some but his head is in Lin’s lap. She looks down at him and smiles, her eyes filled with tears.
She whispers, “See, I told you I’d get you out.”
“You did,” he whispers back. “What now?”
“We leave South Africa. Liam says he will take care of it.”
“I’m sure,” he says. “You can trust him on that.”
The Cherokee hits a pothole and Benjamin gasps with pain. She strokes his forehead again. He says, “When you say ‘we,’ you mean me, Liam, and you, right?”
Lin smiles, touches her lips with two fingers, gently presses them against his lips.
“Yes, Benjamin, that’s exactly what I mean.”
Liam drives, staying on a straight route, but every several minutes, taking an unplanned exit or turn, glancing at the rearview and side mirrors, checking for ground surveillance.
No.
So far, so good.
The city has given way to the countryside, with lots of farms and low trees and brush. Following the narrow two-lane R563 state road, they enter the small farming village of Hekpoort, about sixty klicks northwest of Johannesburg. At a dirt road next to a service station, Liam makes a left. The land is reddish dirt with some trees and barbed-wire fencing, with a mountain range to the north.
He says, “Sorry, Benjamin, it’s going to be bumpy for a bit.”
Lin says, “I’m holding him. He’ll be all right.”
Liam keeps his view moving left and right as they go down the remote road, until a small, one-story wood-and-dark-stone farmhouse comes into view, with an attached one-bay garage. He pulls the Cherokee into the garage, gets out, and swivels the door down.
The next few minutes are occupied with getting his gear into the interior of the cool house, as well as Benjamin and Lin. Liam helps Benjamin cross the stone floor and stretch out on a dusty couch near a fireplace. Throw rugs, heavy wooden chairs, and empty bookcases occupy the main room. A small kitchen is visible, along with two doors, one leading to a bathroom, and the other to a bedroom.
Snug and to the point, which is all they need,Liam thinks.
To Lin he says, “We weren’t followed, and we’ve safely arrived at this place. Time for you to seal the deal, complete your side of the bargain. Make the call.”
Lin says, “But I don’t have the number.”
Liam digs out his Agency-issued phone, thumbs the touch ID to bring it awake. He quickly scrolls through and finds the number for Director Abrams’s home, and pushes it.
“Here,” he says, passing the phone to Lin. “I’m calling Hannah Abrams, the CIA director. Be polite but get the damn message out.”
Lin takes the phone, holds it up to her ear, waits, and returns the phone to Liam.
“You must have misdialed,” she says. “It’s not ringing.”
“The hell I did.”
“Then you call,” she says.
Liam looks again at the number, then swipes the call feature.