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I knew those fucks weren’t State Department.

He said, “So they’re on the loose, right now?”

“No. There was an enormous police response, and they were taken into custody. They’re out of play for a few days. Even better, for some reason, the U.S. is blaming Keta’ib Hezbollah for the attack, as if they claimed credit. At least that worked out.”

Garrett ran that through his mind, then said, “Who claimed credit?”

“Nobody. The U.S. State Department put out a statement.”

Garrett thought,Something else is going on here.He said, “You’re on the way to the airport now?”

“Yes. Our flight leaves in four hours. Now, what’s happening with you? What’s wrong?”

“Too much to tell you right now. I’m in Trastevere, and I can’t get to my car. It might be under surveillance. Can you come get me?”

“Trouble how? What’s going on?”

“I don’t have time to explain! Just trust me.”

“Sir, we’re on the way to the airport. We can’t come get you. We’re in an Uber. We’re on the way to the mission.”

“And Michelangelo? What’s he doing?”

Garrett heard the exasperation leaking through the phone, Raphael having no idea of the predicament he was in.

Raph said, “I don’t know. He’s supposed to fly with you tomorrow. He’s probably getting drunk right now before heading to Israel. You know how he is. We did the hit today and then packed up, taking the first flight out that we could find. We didn’t want to hang around after the attack.”

Shit. Garrett backed off, not wanting them to wonder about the mission. Not wanting Raph to wonder abouthim.

Raphael said, “Sir, we’re about to meet some very bad people. Are you okay? Should we abort?”

Garrett said, “No, not at all. I’m fine. As you said, I’m flying tomorrow. Just contact me when you get there. Do you have the linkup information? After you meet the Knights people at the airport?”

“Yes, we do. We meet the Knights of Malta folks at the airport, stay in their place, and then meet the contact. What’s going on with you?”

“Nothing. I’ll find my own way home and leave my car.” He looked at the man on the bed and said, “Everything is fine.”

He hung up the phone and turned to the student, saying in Italian, “Do you have a car?”

“No. I have a bicycle.”

He realized he couldn’t leave the student alive after this. He was a weak link who could compromise the mission. He said, “Where’s it parked? And is it locked?”

“It’s in the rack on the side of the complex. A beachcomber with a Kryptonite U-lock on it. You want me to show you?”

He thought,Smart man. If Garrett let him leave the apartment, he would begin sprinting once he hit the street. He said, “No. Just give me the key.”

The student leaned to a nightstand, rummaged through a drawer, and pulled out a key ring. He separated one and held it up, his hand trembling.

Garrett took it, then said, “One other thing. You don’t have a red cord or sash here, do you?”

Chapter 49

I’d now been running on about three hours of sleep over the last twenty-four, working to get Knuckles and Brett released after our operation in Trastevere, my head sagging down every few minutes as my brain demanded rest, only for me to jerk back awake. Everyone else was racked out, but I could not go to blissful sleep just yet, because I’d been told that George Wolffe wanted to see me via our VPN.

It was closing in on 4a.m.in Italy, which meant it was about 10p.m.in DC. That he wanted to talk this late was an ominous sign. Maybe he’d failed to get the State Department to engage for Brett and Knuckles.

We’d returned to the hotel after the hit in Trastevere, the adrenaline still coursing through me, and Jennifer—acting as my TOC commander—had told me that Wolffe wanted me to stand by for contact, and like a good soldier, that’s exactly what I was doing, although it was starting to piss me off. If you wanted to talk to me, then give me a call. Don’t make me wait like teenager pining for a date-night phone to ring.