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pockets.
    Will watched her as she stood motionless, just staring at the stunning vista. Large snowflakes began to slowly descend in the windless air.
    “I’ve spent ten years as a deep-cover operative.” Ellie’s voice sounded distant. “You know what that means?”
    “Yes.” Will knew that it meant she’d spent five years longer than the maximum time an intelligence officer could expect to operate undercover before the constant state of paranoia and fear would finally take its toll on even the strongest mind. “Why have you stayed in the field so long?”
    “Because I was never interested in a desk job in Langley.”
    “Is that your only reason?”
    Ellie hesitated before answering, “Thought I was doing some good.”
    “For the States?”
    “For the people who live there, yeah.”
    “The Agency should have pulled you out of the field. You’re on borrowed time. I’m surprised you’re not dead in a ditch somewhere with a bullet in the back of your head.”
    “Thanks for the mental image.”
    “It’s one you’ve thought of every day during the last ten years.”
    “It is.” She turned to face him. “And you know what I’ve concluded about that image?”
    “You’ve accepted it, and that’s how you survived so long in the field.”
    She nodded. “But the thing is—”
    “You never thought you could be shot with the blessing of the Agency.”
    “Or needing to be rescued by a guy who’s on the run.” She pulled out another cigarette, stared at it, and replaced it in the pack. “You saved my life. That matters. But what also matters to me is that I’ve gone above and beyond what the Agency should have expected from me, and in return they’ve stuck the knife in me. So, I can no longer put my faith in the organization. And that means I’m faced with the choice of putting my faith in nothing or something.”
    “Something?”
    “You.” She folded her arms. “The only option that makes sense.”
    That option was for Ellie to return to Langley, pretend to senior management that she’d tried to persuade Will to surrender to the embassies in Oslo, somehow gain access to the Project Ferryman files, and relay what she’d discovered to Will if he made it to the States.
    “If you get caught they’ll—”
    “Oh, come on!” Ellie made no attempt to hide the sarcasm in her voice. “Don’t give me a pep talk about risk, okay? I know this stuff backward. Just don’t.”
    Will made a decision. “Okay. Get a pay-as-you-go cell phone. Not in your name. Deposit its number at a DLB in Washington, D.C.” He gave her the precise location of the dead-letter box. “If it rings, it’ll only be me. But you might not hear from me for a while. No idea how long it’s going to take to get to America. Given you’re a deep-cover operative, I’m assuming you know how to get stuff? In particular, disguises and people’s home addresses.”
    Ellie nodded.
    “Okay. I’ll need a lockup or an apartment in D.C. Someplace on the outskirts and cheap. And I’ll need you to procure and store some things for me there.” He told her what he had in mind, and drew out his wad of cash to give her money.
    But Ellie walked up to him and said, “You’ll need every cent you’ve got. I’ll get you what you want. We can settle up later.”
    Will held out his hand.
    Ellie shook it and held it for a few seconds, staring at the scars on his fingers. It surprised her that holding his warm hand made her feel so good. “We need to go.”
    “We do.” Will looked at the place where earlier he’d had Russia’s best spymaster in his sights. “Antaeus was here in person to make sure we didn’t learn about his mole.” He fixed his gaze on Ellie. “Be very careful. Trust no one.”

 
    FOUR
    E ighteen hours later, Alistair entered a large boardroom in the CIA headquarters in Langley. The MI6 controller, co-head of the joint CIA-MI6 task force, had been summoned here because he was Will Cochrane’s boss. The other co-head,