Page 12 of Edge of Honor

“Maybe she found my sunglasses.”

In addition to his weapons and his Tahoe being held for evidence, he had lost a new pair of Ray-Bans last night.

Sølvi rolled her eyes. “Nobody cares about your sunglasses.”

He shook his head in response. “That’s not what the FBI told me. They’re going to keep a lookout for them.”

Before she could reply, the front gate chime sounded. Answering in Norwegian, she buzzed the Ambassador in and told her driver to proceed up to the house.

Scot and Sølvi went outside to greet them.

CHAPTER 7

Ambassador Hansen was dressed professionally in a navy pantsuit with her brown hair pulled back and very little makeup.

After all the federal law enforcement agents had departed her residence, she had probably spent a good chunk of the night next door at the embassy relaying everything that had happened back to her government in Oslo. With the residence having been breached, two Norwegian security agents dead, and her Norwegian chef in the hospital, the powers that be would want to know everything. There would also be concern over the upcoming NATO Summit, scheduled to be held in only a few days, right in downtown D.C.

It was one of the first big international meetings to be hosted by President Mitchell and his new administration. Not only was the NATO partnership on the agenda, but so too was a proposed European-wide missile defense system known as Sky Shield. The Norwegian Prime Minister would be flying in to represent Norway and was hoping to sway the handful of members not yet signed on. The safety and security of the summit would be of more pressing interest than it had been just twenty-four hours ago.

Despite the tragic circumstances of the night before and the very little sleep she had likely been operating under, the Ambassador was the picture of professionalism and composure.

With a leather briefcase slung over her shoulder, she exited the car, strode confidently forward, and greeted them warmly.

Out of respect for Scot, both the Ambassador and Sølvi spoke English.

After a few pleasantries, Sølvi asked, “How is Chef Markus?”

The Ambassador’s expression grew grim. “As you know, he lost a lot of blood. They had him in surgery for seven hours. I’m headed back to the hospital after this.”

“Please know that we are thinking of him.”

“Of course. That is very kind of you.”

“Would you both like to come inside?” Harvath asked, speaking to the Ambassador and then nodding at her driver, who, judging by his build, probably also doubled as her security. “We have coffee.”

“Ah,” the Ambassador replied, “a Norwegian’s three favorite words.” Looking at her driver, she raised an eyebrow and asked if he would like some coffee. He politely declined and stated that he would wait for her outside.

Smiling, she said, “Looks like it’s just me.”

Sølvi led Ambassador Hansen inside and, as Harvath poured three fresh cups of coffee, gave her a quick tour.

She explained the history of the property, known as Bishop’s Gate, and how the small stone church, rectory, and various support buildings had been constructed by the Anglicans before the Revolutionary War, how the estate had gone on to become a site for Naval Intelligence, and how it eventually had been deeded to Harvath by a grateful former U.S. president—provided Harvath continue to pay his one-dollar-a-year rent and maintain, if not improve, the property.

“And Mount Vernon is the adjacent property?” the Ambassador asked.

Sølvi smiled yes. “We have fun telling friends that George Washington is our next-door neighbor.”

“Mine is the pope, so we’re both in excellent company.”

Sølvi smiled again. “We are.”

“What’s this?” Hansen asked, pointing to a very old, hand-carved sign that had been mounted to the wall.

“Scot found that up in the attic.Transiens Adiuva Nos,” Sølvi said, reading the Latin phrase. “It’s the motto of the Anglican missionaries. Roughly, it means I go overseas to help.”

“Quite appropriate considering your husband’s background. It’s almostas if this house was meant for him. And for you as well, considering your service to Norway.”

She couldn’t tell if it was a casual remark, meant to be flattering, or if the Ambassador was hinting at something else entirely.