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about?” Anna said, sharply.
    The director raised an eyebrow.
    Having finally become angry, she lifted her gaze and stared into his eyes. “You’re speaking as if David…why, as if he’s out of the picture somehow.”
    The director hesitated before saying, “If you believe I’ve implied that, you’ve misunderstood me.”
    That pause wasn’t a mistake. Is he threatening me? Is he threatening David? Why is he saying any of this?
    “May I ask you a question?” Max asked.
    “I’m not sure I care for any of this,” she said.
    “No, I’m sure you don’t. But this is much more than our feelings, Ms. Chen. This concerns our country. I love my country.”
    “So do I,” she said.
    “I know. It’s the reason I’m speaking to you as I am.”
    “And how is that?” she asked.
    He smiled once more. This smile seemed more genuine but also more rapacious. “I’ve struck a nerve, have I? Your…shall we call it reserve?”
    She kept her gaze on him, and she realized that she was more than angry. She was furious.
    “Yes,” Max said, “let us call it your natural reserve. It has vanished because you think I’ve spoken ill about the President.”
    “You’re implying he is no longer capable of doing his job,” Anna said.
    “Ah,” Max said. “That is an interesting choice of words. I would like to point out that you spoke them. I did not.”
    “What is this about, Director?”
    “I’ve made you worried, have I? That is interesting. Until this moment, you have likely felt that you’re the only one who realized that David Sims has lost his nerve.”
    “I’m not going to sit here and listen to you—”
    As she spoke, Max reached across the table and took her right hand. The touch sparked against her, making her stiffen. His grip was surprisingly strong. He leaned closer so his face seemed to fill her world. The touch peeled away the last layer, or maybe scales fell from her eyes. His look had become flinty and his soul unfolded like a poisonous flower. Max Harold was hard and ruthless like a Himmler, like a Robespierre. Understanding that about him…it suddenly frightened Anna.
    “You must listen to me carefully,” Max said. “And you must decide who you love more: David or the United States.”
    “Ma’am,” Demetrius said. “Are you well?”
    Anna tried to tug her hand free, but the director held it too tightly against the tabletop.
    Surely, Demetrius saw that. He put a big hand on the director’s left shoulder. “Sir, I’ll have to ask you to release Ms. Chen.”
    Before Max could respond, the three Militia bodyguards surrounded Demetrius. To Anna’s horrified astonishment, one of the bodyguards poked a silver barrel against Demetrius’s side. The other two laid hands on the agent’s arm.
    “Do you want a fight, Director?” Demetrius asked.
    “Get your filthy hand off me,” Max told him. “No one touches me.”
    “First you’ll have to release Ms. Chen,” Demetrius said.
    Anna sat like a statue, drinking in the details but unable to move, unable to speak. She could see the wheels turning in the director’s eyes.
    Abruptly, Max let go of Anna’s hand. She slid it back to her lap. It felt as if the skin was on fire.
    Demetrius released the director.
    “What are your wishes, sir?” asked the bodyguard with the gun jabbed against Demetrius’s side.
    Max brushed his shoulder where Demetrius had put his hand. “Sit down,” he told his men. “But watch him. If he touches me again…” Max looked up at Demetrius. “You men will know what to do.”
    “Yes, sir,” the bodyguard said, the one with the gun. He withdrew the weapon and holstered it inside his jacket. Afterward, the three bodyguards returned to their table.
    “I will remember this,” Max told Demetrius.
    Demetrius didn’t bother replying. He asked Anna, “What are your wishes, ma’am?”
    The possible violence had unnerved her. She didn’t know what to say.
    “You would do well to hear me out,” Max told