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of an exquisitely smooth Malbec vintage, and the dawning realization that they would be taking the next available private flight back to Sanderson's mountain hideaway. Either way, she enjoyed seeing them let their guard down just a little and finally relax. She owed them everything.
    She had oddly come to terms with her own death at the apartment. On some level, she had felt relieved that her struggle was finally finished. At least she had convinced herself that she had accepted her death. All she had to do was relax her muscles and take a little weight off her tensed midsection. The thin piano wire would have cut a few more millimeters into her neck, effectively opening her carotid artery. It might have been a bad decision given the Celox Munoz had found in Josef Hadzic's torture kit, but she somehow doubted they could have kept her alive for more than a minute or two jamming hemostatic powder into her neck. What they had planned to do to her corpse afterward, on camera for their boss, hadn't mattered to her either, so she thought.
    Ultimately, all of those thoughts proved false. When Melendez's bullet removed her captor's head, she sprang into action with no hesitation, leaving little doubt about her decision to live or die.
    She put down the concealer stick and walked across the cool, gray marble tile to the kitchen. She hadn't expected to hear from Daniel until later in the afternoon. His group had an operation planned for the evening, which always shut him down externally. She read the caller ID, not recognizing the number, which could only mean one thing. The last person she really wanted to talk to right now. Three people had the number for this throw-away phone. Daniel, Munoz, and her least favorite person in the world. She accepted the call.
    "Do I need to get a restraining order?" she said by way of greeting.
    "I highly doubt that would be possible, since you officially no longer exist as an Argentinian citizen," General Sanderson said.
    "That was fast. Can I pick up the new paperwork this morning? There's room on a flight leaving at 12:15," Jessica said.
    "So now you're happy to hear from me? Your passport will be delivered within the hour by a trusted member of the U.S. Embassy. One of Karl Berg's friends. That might give you enough time to book that flight."
    "I'm impressed," she said.
    "I'll take that as a compliment, though I must admit that having a little leverage over the White House helps work wonders with the State Department. The passport has been issued in the name Jessica Petrovich and will contain an entry stamp for your vacation to Argentina. Once you get out of Argentina, you're home free. Your names have been removed from every U.S.-generated international and domestic watch list. The Petroviches are free and clear as far as the U.S. government is concerned."
    "Do you trust them?"
    "For now, but I'd recommend having a backup plan ready at all times. I'll help you get a second set of papers, just in case. Have Daniel pass on the details when the two of you have talked about it."
    "We'll be sure to get in touch," Jessica said.
    "Why do I get the feeling the two of you already have a plan to disappear?"
    "Because you know us too well? Who knows, we might sign on with you as a Mr. and Mrs. Smith freelance team. No promises, but all options are still on the table."
    "Now that is a pleasant surprise coming from you. Even hearing you mention the possibility gives me hope. I was utterly convinced that I'd never see the two of you again."
    "You might not…" she said and paused, "but sometimes life makes the choices for you."
    "In my experience, it's most of the time. The two of you will always be welcome here. Don't ever forget that," Sanderson said.
    "Somehow, I don't think you'll let us forget."
    "We all know each other too well. Enjoy your time together. The two of you have earned it. I expect to hear from Daniel early this evening. Sounds like they are close to wrapping up their work in Germany. Of