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When Irish came within an inch of losing his life a third time, we sat down in my apartment and, over a fifth of whiskey, reached an agreement.
“There’s a mole,” he’d said.
“Someone inside,” I’d agreed.
“It’s high up, Cope.”
“I believe it is.”
Even knowing it could end not only our careers but our lives, we made a pact to create a mission of our own. We took every Chinese op that presented itself, and began our investigation. In each one, Irish put himself at risk of death for the sole purpose of finding who was betraying our country, while I sat behind a desk. It ate at me to the point I’d suggested we give it up.
Irish had been livid with me and demanded I reconsider. It wasn’t a week later that we were contacted by someone offering the information we were seeking.
The man, Dr. Benjamin, was a British diplomat and one of the world’s leading experts on Chinese policy. Irish had been the one to appear on his radar, but he had enough evidence that we were on the right track, that we agreed to keep moving forward.
Within a week of our meeting, Benjamin, who had last been seen in Hong Kong, disappeared. Finding him became a mission we took on jointly with MI6.
Enter Decker Ashford and the Invincibles. MI6 had hired them to assist with the mission. It didn’t take long before Deck came to me with the same suspicions Benjamin had about Irish. I’d had no choice at the time but to read him in.
The rest of the mission did not go in our favor. Irish became the lead suspect as the mole who was feeding information to Chinese intelligence officers.
We were at another crossroads when Decker suggested Irish take the fall, knowing we were close enough to finding the real mole that he’d be exonerated before he went to trial.
The result, though, was that when the wire services picked up the news that Warrick’s case wouldn’t be settled, reporters like Stella and Ali were assigned to cover it.
Stella had said there was something about Ali that didn’t add up. I had to admit she didn’t add up to me either. But I didn’t care.
“What are you thinking about?” she murmured.
I turned my head and looked into her eyes. “You.”
“Cope, I think we should?—”
“No.” I rolled to my side and grasped the back of her neck, pulling her close enough that I could capture her mouth with mine. This wasn’t a kiss. I was claiming her.
19
ALI
“Igot an email from my boss. She wants me to continue reporting on the trial,” I told him the next morning.
“Okay,” Cope said, looking up from where he stood in his kitchen, making scrambled eggs.
After another hours-long round of sex, we’d both agreed we needed to eat. Since I had no food and neither of us felt like going out, we went back to his apartment, ate, and then had more sex.
“What do you need from me?”
I wanted to say “nothing,” but I still had a job to do. Even if I believed Cope was clean, I had to come up with enough evidence to prove it in order to complete my assignment.
It wouldn’t be hard for me to attack it in the same way I would as an actual reporter; I did have a degree in journalism like the background check I was sure Cope had run, indicated. I’d double-majored with a degree in international studies, which is why the agency recruiter who’d visited Northwestern, approached me.
“I’ll let you know.”
“I think I can come up with something to make that easier.” Cope pointed to my left hand when he noticed I was pecking at the keyboard with my index finger. He set a plate of eggs next to my laptop and then left the kitchen.
“You can eat first.”
“Be right back,” he hollered from the hallway.