the crazy Englishman. “Really?”
Patrick nodded. “You did say anything.”
Alistair added, “When you get to our time of life, it’s the little things that keep us going.”
She looked at the lists again.
Patrick wanted a chess set, De’Longhi espresso machine, menus of the best Italian and Indian delivery services in D.C., a picture of a nice sunset or something like that to keep him calm, a once-daily visit from a sports masseur who could loosen the knots in his upper back, a bottle of single-malt whiskey and two cut-glass tumblers, and a soundproofed cubicle to put around shitty Sheridan.
Alistair had requested a wine refrigerator, a box of Cuban cigars and a humidor, matinee tickets for the National Theatre in case there was a lull of activity in the manhunt, Darjeeling tea and a high-quality tea set, and a catapult with a range of no less than half the length of this room with pellets that would sting but not cause serious injury.
Marsha sighed. “I’ll get you some of these things.”
“Splendid.” Alistair walked over to Marsha’s map of the world. “I had one of these on my wall when I was a boy at Eton.”
“Eton?” Marsha joined him. “Why doesn’t that surprise me?”
Alistair’s expression turned icy, and he lowered his voice so that only Marsha could hear him. “Jellicoe has to all intents and purposes issued a death sentence for Cochrane.”
“He was authorized to do so.”
“Not by me.”
“Seems others have a bigger say right now.”
“Quite so. You agree with them?”
“Not on a shoot-first, ask-questions-later basis.”
“You’d do it properly?”
“Yes. But make no mistake—if Cochrane wants a fight, we’ll fight back.”
“I’d expect nothing less.”
“Kinda not sure that it’s in my interest to have you two here, because . . .”
“We might hinder.”
Marsha nodded. “I get it, but it’s a fact that you’ve got a vested interest in keeping Cochrane underground.”
“Not anymore.”
Marsha frowned. “Why?”
Alistair did not answer, instead asked, “No sightings at all?”
Marsha followed his gaze at the map. “I threw in the wild-card option that he might be heading west. We had a possibility in Greenland, but that turned out to be nothing.”
“The world’s his oyster.” Alistair’s eyes rapidly took in everything he could see on the map. “You assure me that you’re going to do this professionally? That you’ll take him alive if you can?”
“Yes, but I can’t assure you that the mavericks think the same way.” She was referring to the CIA.
“I wouldn’t ask you to assure me on a matter that’s beyond your control.” He was deep in thought. “Jellicoe’s appearance at the Senate yesterday has changed everything.” He turned his gaze to Marsha. “Patrick and I will help you in every way we can, because we want you to find Cochrane, before the mavericks close in.”
Marsha momentarily wondered if Alistair was trying to flatter her, but rapidly decided not. The MI6 controller’s blue eyes were cold, piercing, and gleaming with intelligence. She’d been wrong about him. He most certainly wasn’t crazy or a joke. “Okay, I buy that.”
“I’m so glad you do.”
“But you’re putting a lot of faith in me. Cochrane could be anywhere.”
“Does that challenge daunt you?”
“No.”
“That’s what I’d heard. And I’d also heard that you were head of the Bureau task force hunting Cobalt.”
Marsha hesitated before asking, “Haupman told you that?”
Alistair nodded. “I told Director Haupman that you and Cochrane had Cobalt in common, because I’d tasked Mr. Cochrane to capture Cobalt.”
In a near whisper, Marsha asked, “Do you know why they pulled the plug on the Cobalt operation?”
“No. I asked, and was told to mind my own business. I kept asking, and kept getting told the same thing. I do know it was authorized by our prime minister and your president. But why they made that bizarre and
Patrick nodded. “You did say anything.”
Alistair added, “When you get to our time of life, it’s the little things that keep us going.”
She looked at the lists again.
Patrick wanted a chess set, De’Longhi espresso machine, menus of the best Italian and Indian delivery services in D.C., a picture of a nice sunset or something like that to keep him calm, a once-daily visit from a sports masseur who could loosen the knots in his upper back, a bottle of single-malt whiskey and two cut-glass tumblers, and a soundproofed cubicle to put around shitty Sheridan.
Alistair had requested a wine refrigerator, a box of Cuban cigars and a humidor, matinee tickets for the National Theatre in case there was a lull of activity in the manhunt, Darjeeling tea and a high-quality tea set, and a catapult with a range of no less than half the length of this room with pellets that would sting but not cause serious injury.
Marsha sighed. “I’ll get you some of these things.”
“Splendid.” Alistair walked over to Marsha’s map of the world. “I had one of these on my wall when I was a boy at Eton.”
“Eton?” Marsha joined him. “Why doesn’t that surprise me?”
Alistair’s expression turned icy, and he lowered his voice so that only Marsha could hear him. “Jellicoe has to all intents and purposes issued a death sentence for Cochrane.”
“He was authorized to do so.”
“Not by me.”
“Seems others have a bigger say right now.”
“Quite so. You agree with them?”
“Not on a shoot-first, ask-questions-later basis.”
“You’d do it properly?”
“Yes. But make no mistake—if Cochrane wants a fight, we’ll fight back.”
“I’d expect nothing less.”
“Kinda not sure that it’s in my interest to have you two here, because . . .”
“We might hinder.”
Marsha nodded. “I get it, but it’s a fact that you’ve got a vested interest in keeping Cochrane underground.”
“Not anymore.”
Marsha frowned. “Why?”
Alistair did not answer, instead asked, “No sightings at all?”
Marsha followed his gaze at the map. “I threw in the wild-card option that he might be heading west. We had a possibility in Greenland, but that turned out to be nothing.”
“The world’s his oyster.” Alistair’s eyes rapidly took in everything he could see on the map. “You assure me that you’re going to do this professionally? That you’ll take him alive if you can?”
“Yes, but I can’t assure you that the mavericks think the same way.” She was referring to the CIA.
“I wouldn’t ask you to assure me on a matter that’s beyond your control.” He was deep in thought. “Jellicoe’s appearance at the Senate yesterday has changed everything.” He turned his gaze to Marsha. “Patrick and I will help you in every way we can, because we want you to find Cochrane, before the mavericks close in.”
Marsha momentarily wondered if Alistair was trying to flatter her, but rapidly decided not. The MI6 controller’s blue eyes were cold, piercing, and gleaming with intelligence. She’d been wrong about him. He most certainly wasn’t crazy or a joke. “Okay, I buy that.”
“I’m so glad you do.”
“But you’re putting a lot of faith in me. Cochrane could be anywhere.”
“Does that challenge daunt you?”
“No.”
“That’s what I’d heard. And I’d also heard that you were head of the Bureau task force hunting Cobalt.”
Marsha hesitated before asking, “Haupman told you that?”
Alistair nodded. “I told Director Haupman that you and Cochrane had Cobalt in common, because I’d tasked Mr. Cochrane to capture Cobalt.”
In a near whisper, Marsha asked, “Do you know why they pulled the plug on the Cobalt operation?”
“No. I asked, and was told to mind my own business. I kept asking, and kept getting told the same thing. I do know it was authorized by our prime minister and your president. But why they made that bizarre and
Similar Books
