To Ralph she says, “Anything else going on out there?”
“The street’s practically unpassable with all of the double-parked police vehicles out there, including a white van that’s probably the source of our phone blockage.”
Hannah says, “No chance you’d go out there and blow it up?”
Ralph doesn’t smile. “Beyond the scope of our duties, ma’am.”
Jean says, “What now, Director? We’re isolated, trapped, and we don’t know what Liam might be doing in South Africa, if he’s doing anything.”
A short, dark-haired woman—Gina Stasio of the Agency’s Technical Services Division, and Noa’s friend—raps on the doorframe and steps in. “Sorry to bother you, Director, but Noa needs to see you, right away. Something’s going on.”
Upstairs in the spare bedroom, Noa is sitting up in one of the beds as Gina, Ralph, and Jean walk in. Noa points to a low bureau on the other side of the room and says, “Director, you need to see this.”
“This” is a portable television with an over-the-air antenna Hannah had gotten two years ago, when a sudden series of windstorms had knocked out power and utilities to this part of DC for nearly a week. She couldn’t stand being out of touch for such a length of time, and the small TV was purchased and nearly instantly forgotten.
Until now.
Noa says, “Turn it up. It looks bad.”
Jean goes over and NBC News is on live feed, split screen. A worried-looking male anchor is speaking as Jean turns up the volume.
“… what you’re seeing here is a live shot of the Chinese embassy on International Place Northwest, where diplomats and staff are apparently burning their papers and files.”
Two lines of smoke are rising from a fenced-in and concrete-walled compound with boxy and triangular-shaped concrete buildings.
“Attempts to contact the embassy for comments have beenunsuccessful. There’s also been no word from the White House or the State Department as to why the Chinese are taking such an extraordinary step. Hold on … please … we’ve just received word that the same thing is happening at the five other consulates that the Chinese maintain in the United States …”
Jean says, “Director, the last time something like this happened was back in 1962, during the Cuban Missile Crisis, when the Soviets did the same thing at their embassy. That means they’re anticipating war breaking out, and soon.”
Hannah checks her watch.
No more waiting.
“Ralph, I don’t care if the DC National Guard is out there,” she says. “We’re leaving.”
Noa speaks up, face still pale. “Director, before you leave … we need to talk.”
“Is it important?”
Her friend Gina says, “Very important, Director. And helpful.”
CHAPTER 117
TO LIN, LIAM Grey says, “You still have to honor your deal.”
“How?” she says. “We can’t contact your director. It’s up to you, not me, to establish contact with someone.”
From the couch Benjamin Lucas says, “Liam? How about the local station chief?”
He shakes his head. “Time. I contact the station chief, it takes a while to establish my bona fides. We pass along Lin’s information. That gets kicked over to Langley. It’s reviewed, evaluated, discussed at a committee. Then it gets run upstairs to the seventh floor, to the director. But where’s the director?”
Liam stalks over to the narrow windows overlooking the yard. The dirt road leading out to the paved road and the service station, gnarled trees, red dirt, and broken-down fencing and rusting barbed wire.
Benjamin says, “Lin. It’s up to you.”
She folds her arms, seemingly in defiance. “Why?”
He coughs. “Because I’m asking you, Lin. Liam did his part. With your help, he got me freed. Please.”