“He went out that way,” said Dutch, pointing to a door she hadn’t noticed near the back of the room. “If I remember correctly, he said he wouldn’t be staying for the meeting.”
Malin looked around for a place to sit that was as far from Alegria Mondreau as she could get. It appeared that her best bet was to stay right where she was.
“Since it doesn’t look as though Doc is ready to start, I thought I’d sneak over and say hello.” Mantis leaned forward and kissed both of Malin’s cheeks. How very French of him, she thought, rolling her eyes.
“Malin and Dutch, would the two of you come with me. There are some things I’d like to brief you on before we get started,” said Doc, walking over to them.
Dutch held back.
“Are you coming?” she asked.
“Only if you’re certain you want me to,” he said, but then leaned closer to her. “This is your mission. Don’t think I’ve forgotten that.”
“I want you to hear w
hatever Doc has to say.”
Dutch nodded, and they followed Doc through the door Burns had previously used. When they entered what looked like a private tasting room, Malin saw that McTiernan and Copeland were already seated at the table, along with Burns.
“I hope you don’t mind that I asked my father to join us.”
Malin nodded. “I’m glad he’s here.” The other two, however, were a different story.
“In a meeting earlier today, Kellen briefed me on information that you need to be made aware of,” Doc said directly to her.
“Agent Kilbourne,” began McTiernan, “the work you have done on this mission thus far has been exemplary. What Doc alluded to in terms of the information you should be made aware of, is that I, too, have been working on the same investigation, albeit from a different direction.”
Doc stepped forward. “It seems that Striker’s departure from the agency was carefully timed. While his intention was to leave the CIA’s employ, his departure lent itself to a strategic maneuver on the part of the NSA,” he told them.
“As you are aware, Kilbourne, my expertise is in analysis, specifically relating to signal evaluation and trafficking, but more importantly, money,” said McTiernan.
Malin nodded. “Go on, please.”
“While you stumbled on a particular money trail all on your own, a team at the NSA did as well, but more than six months after you did.”
“That’s when Striker resigned,” said Dutch, looking between Doc and McTiernan. “Your code name makes a lot more sense now.”
The agent known to some as “Money” was rarely referred to as such. Some names stuck; others didn’t. Malin had hated the code name “Starling” the first time it was used in reference to her, and refused to even answer to it.
“As I told Doc earlier, the ambush you heard about was a setup designed to lead some of our higher-ranking agents to believe Ghafor was assassinated.”
Malin’s eyes opened wide. “He’s alive?”
“He is, and is in a secure location, awaiting his interview with you, Kilbourne,” said Doc.
“What have you learned from him?” she asked McTiernan directly.
“Nothing. He’s refusing to talk to anyone but you.”
Malin tamped down the reflex to smile until she looked at Dutch, who winked.
“I wish I could tell you that Orlov is alive as well,” said McTiernan, looking at Dutch. “Sadly, at least for this particular mission, he is not. However, I don’t question your motives, sir.”
Dutch nodded, but didn’t speak.
“What’s the next step, after I meet with Ghafor?”
McTiernan didn’t immediately answer. Instead he looked at Doc.