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Smerconish made a series of phone calls. Each one contained a variation of ‘But he says he doesn’t know.’ The last call ended with ‘Fine, I’ll ask him.’

‘Ask me what?’ Koenig said.

‘You have a condition the US government has no problem exploiting.’

‘So?’

‘But you don’t like being handled. You don’t respond well to authority. You’ll say something is black even when you know it’s white. You’ll say you’re in Montana when you’re in Wyoming. That you’re in good health when in fact you’ve been stabbed in the arm during an altercation with a meth-dealing biker gang.’

‘You knew about that?’

‘We know everything , Mr Koenig.’

Koenig frowned. He didn’t like that. Not one bit. ‘I really haven’t heard of the Acacia Avenue Protocol, though.’ He paused. ‘But if you let me, I will help you figure it out.’

‘We’ve had experts on this for days. How can you help?’

‘First, you need to bring Jen inside,’ Koenig said.

‘Inside the loop?’

‘Inside the car. It’s October and she’s wearing a light jacket. But also inside the loop. Someone put me on that list for a reason, and I want her involved.’

Smerconish opened his door and asked Draper to join them. Koenig thought that was interesting. He was clearly able to make decisions on who had access to information and who didn’t. A mid-level DIA spook wouldn’t have that much authority. He’d have needed permission. Koenig butt-shuffled across the bench seat to make room. Draper climbed in. Her face was red and her nose was running. She rubbed her hands together, then blew through them.

‘It’s like a meat locker out there,’ she said.

‘There’s no such thing as bad weather,’ Koenig said. ‘Just poor choices of clothing.’

‘Why don’t you shut the fu—’

‘Children, please,’ Smerconish said. He then brought Draper up to speed, right up to Koenig offering to help but only if Draper was brought on board.

When he’d finished, Koenig said, ‘Tell me about the other names on the list.’

‘Their names are unimportant.’

‘But they all held highly classified positions,’ Koenig said.

A pause. Then, ‘They did.’

‘Yet I’m on the list as well.’

‘You are.’

‘And I’ve never held a highly classified position.’

‘You can imagine our confusion.’

‘Maybe it was something he was supposed to be told, but he disappeared before they got to him,’ Draper said. ‘Keeping him on the list was an oversight.’

Smerconish shook his head. ‘The safe was sealed while Mr Koenig was still a marshal. Even if that wasn’t the case, it doesn’t explain why he was on the list in the first place. The other three worked in intelligence; Mr Koenig has only ever worked in law enforcement.’

‘This started with a murder in London?’ Draper said.

‘A double murder. A homeless woman shot two Romanian nationals in broad daylight, then seemingly disappeared without a trace. The British cops were nowhere. London has more CCTV cameras than any other Western city, but the homeless woman avoided them all.’

‘You don’t know what she looks like?’

‘We do now, but it took a while. Some IT geek grabbed an image from a private camera. Brits put it through facial recognition, and it triggered all sorts of actions, one of which was an order to shut down the investigation.’

‘Do you know who she is?’

‘We don’t. She’s not on any database and we have access to them all.’

‘If her face triggered all this, she must have been on one at some point,’ Koenig said. ‘Can you not start there and work backwards?’

‘We’ve tried. Dead end.’

‘You have a photograph?’ Koenig said.

Smerconish pressed a button on the centre console. A panel slid open to reveal a safe. He shielded the keypad and tapped in a bunch of numbers. They didn’t beep like a regular safe. Didn’t even click. He opened the metal door and retrieved a thin file. He handed it to Koenig.

Koenig removed a glossy photograph. The image was black and white and a little bit fuzzy. His mouth went dry. He studied it until he was sure.

‘I know this woman,’ he said.

Smerconish leaned forwards. ‘How?’ he urged.

‘Because ten years ago, I killed her,’ Koenig said.