Reckless

That’s what she is, in a way, Jeff thought sadly. Her life has been one long war. And she’s lost so many people she loved.

In that moment he felt utterly overpowered with love for her.

Even for Jeff Stevens, there were times when lies didn’t come easily.

“HI, YOU’VE REACHED JEFF. Leave a message.”

Frank Dorrien was irritated. That was the third time today he’d failed to reach Stevens.

Frank was confident after Bruges that Stevens was back on board. That his tiresome maverick streak was under control. But that was before Jeff had met up with Tracy Whitney again.

Tracy had certainly been useful to Frank Dorrien, albeit unwittingly. Her connection to Stevens had provided MI6 with a huge advantage. But the intelligence she provided came at a price. When Tracy and Jeff got together, nothing was predictable. And the stakes couldn’t be higher.

Frank Dorrien felt the first stirrings of real fear in the pit of his stomach, like sun-dazed butterflies slowly coming to life.

Glancing at his watch, Frank set off at a run towards Jeff’s hotel.

“WHEN DID YOU LAST hear from Tracy?”

Milton Buck’s entire upper body tensed with irritation and resentment. Who the hell did Cameron Crewe think he was, interrupting him in the middle of an important meeting with French intelligence?

“I told you before. I can’t talk now.”

“I don’t give a fuck what you told me, Agent Buck. I can’t reach her and I want answers. Now!”

Arrogant asshole. I’m not one of your minion employees.

“I’ll call you when I’m out of my meeting,” Milton replied, through gritted teeth.

“Don’t bother,” Cameron snapped. “I’ll take it up the food chain. God knows why I’m talking to the monkey anyway. We both know Walton’s the organ grinder.”

To Milton Buck’s fury, he hung up.

GREG WALTON WAS REASSURING.

“I saw her two days ago. Everything’s fine. I’m not expecting her to check in with us daily.”

“Well, I am,” Cameron Crewe said bluntly. The strain in his voice quivered down the phone line. “She always calls me back, usually within an hour. It’s been a day and a night.”

“She’s working, Cameron. She’s probably reestablishing ties with Jeff Stevens. That’s what we asked her to do.”

“That’s what I’m worried about. Did you know she checked out of the Georges V?”

There was a long pause. “Are you sure about that?”

Cameron exploded. “My God, Greg. You’re the CIA! You’re supposed to be watching her.”

“We’ll find her,” Greg Walton said. But all the confidence was gone now, like air from a pricked balloon. “I’ll get my best team on it. Agent Buck . . .”

“Agent Buck is a goddamned moron,” Cameron said furiously. “Forget it, Greg. You had your chance. I’ll find her myself.”

PRESIDENT JIM HAVERS SPOKE unnaturally slowly. As if by lingering over each word of the question, he could somehow postpone the answer.

“So you’re telling me they’re both gone?”

Prime Minister Julia Cabot replied tersely, “That’s what my intelligence team is telling me.”

“Whitney and Stevens.”