Close to heading for the door, Carmichael decided to slow down and hear the young CIA man out. Sitting on the edge of the room’s king-size bed and crossing her legs, she replied, “So what do you have for me?”

Turner held up his finger, as if to say, I’ll be right back, and disappeared into the suite’s dressing area, where the closet and room safe were. A moment later he reappeared waving a thin folder in the air. “I told you the proof was out there somewhere.”

“Proof of what?”

“That the president really has been using elements of the intelligence community for his own personal hit squad.”

Carmichael couldn’t believe her ears. “What did you find?”

“After-action reports, “He said proudly as he handed her the dossier. “After-action reports for off-the-books, black ops assignments that supposedly never existed.”

“How’d you get your hands on these?” asked the senator as she flipped through the pages. “Nobody just leaves intelligence like this lying around.”

“It was hardly lying around,” said Turner, feeling cocky. He was doing exactly what he needed to do to seal a position in her cabinet. He was proving himself indispensable. “Basically, it all comes down to having the right access and the correct knowledge. I’ve been at the agency long enough to develop both.”

The senator tried to mask how excited she was to get her hands on such valuable information. As she continued reading, she asked, “And Scot Harvath played a role in these off-the-books assignments?”

“They allude to someone who I definitely believe is Harvath,” replied Turner.

“How about the president? Can we tie him to any of these operations?”

“Not yet,” said the CIA man, “but once I can put Harvath in the picture, I think we’ll have the president as well.”

“How much longer?”

“If things continue to pan out, I think we’re only talking a matter of days. Possibly by the end of the week.”

The senator thought about the press cycle, her hearings, and the announcement she was going to make that both the president and his chief of staff had been served. This additional information was exactly what she had been counting on. “Whatever it takes,” she said, “do it. And do it fast.”

ITALY

With the French police hopefully searching the valley beneath Ristolas for their bodies, Harvath pulled a map from the glove box and plotted the shortest possible route into Italy.

As France and Italy were both EU member countries, the only thing stopped at their respective border these days was the occasional truck. Even so, Harvath still wanted to be careful and chose a narrow, low-profile route that wound its way through the Alps and eventually deposited them in the Piemonte region’s Po River Valley-not far from where Hannibal ’s army engaged the first Roman legions.

Soon, they neared Turin, and though he and Jillian were both tired, they agreed the wisest choice was to push on to Milan and put as much distance between them and the French authorities as possible.

With its street crime, prostitutes, and drug dealers, Milan was second only to Naples as the seediest city in Italy. While Harvath had always given the fashion industry’s tacky capital the widest berth possible, he was happy to find a mid-grade, chain business hotel near the city center. The desk clerk, who suspected Harvath was on a jaunt with his attractive mistress, was more than happy to ignore protocol and accept two nights’ lodging in cash along with a hefty tip, in lieu of the presentation of any formal identification.

As he soaked under a steaming hot shower, Jillian went across the street to an all-night café for sandwiches and coffee. When she returned, she found Harvath on the edge of the bed, going through the bag Khalid Alomari had left in the trunk of his car. “Anything interesting?” she asked as she handed Harvath a sandwich.

“You’ll love this, “He replied. “Along with a prayer mat and a copy of the Koran, he had extra ammo, several very nasty-looking knives, and a garrote wire.”

Jillian shuddered. “Death and religion, what a juxtaposition.”

“That’s the way these people operate. Not all Muslims are terrorists, but without fail all terrorists are Muslims. There’s a war raging within their religion. The moderate Muslim faith is under siege by the Wahhabi extremists of Saudi Arabia. That’s what gave birth to bin Laden and al-Qaeda. They want to take over the world and they’ll do whatever is necessary to make their goal a reality.”

Despite the glass of wine she had downed at the café across the street, Jillian was still numb from killing Khalid Alomari. But the more she heard about what a monster he and his kind were, the better she began to feel about what she had done.

“We need to establish our priorities,” said Harvath as he reached for one of the coffees.

“That’s easy,” replied Jillian. “The tissue samples. We’ve got to get them to the Whitcombs as soon as possible.”

“I agree, but I also want the people working on this in my government to get a look at them. “Glancing up at Jillian, he added,” Vanessa and Alan are good people, and I don’t want to see anything happen to them.”

“Neither do I.”

“Good. I’d like to arrange for them to get away from Durham for a little bit. Even though we’ve taken care of Alomari, there’s no knowing who he might have talked with and if the Whitcombs are in any danger.”

Jillian had not considered that possibility and was obviously concerned. “What do you have in mind?”

“I’d like to have them moved to a special military base where they can continue their work on this case and where they’ll be completely safe.”

“An American military base?”

“Yes. Fort Detrick, Maryland.”

“USAMRIID. The U.S. Army Medical Research Institute of Infectious Diseases,” said Jillian.

“You’re familiar with it?”

“Of course.”

Harvath hesitated a moment and then said, “I’d like you to go with them.”

“Me? Why me?”

“Because you’ve been through enough already. This is only going to get more dangerous, and I don’t think it’s right to ask you to stay with me.”

“First of all,” said Jillian as she glared at Harvath, “I’ll be the judge of what’s right for me, and secondly, you need me.”

Harvath knew he could move a lot faster without her, but felt he owed it to her to hear her out. “How do you figure?”

“We don’t know what the tissue samples we gathered will yield. They might yield nothing at all. Either way, you’re not going to sit around here waiting to find out. You’re going after Rayburn. You need to find Emir Tokay. At this point, he’s the only one who can shed any light on all of this. If, as we said before, he’s even still alive.”

She had him pegged. That was exactly what Harvath had planned, but he still saw no reason to save the seat next to him for the trip. “I still don’t understand why I need you for any of that.”

“Emir contacted me because he had pieces of a puzzle he couldn’t put together. If he’s still alive, he might still need my expertise to sort this all out.”

“And if he’s not?”

“If he’s not and you manage to locate Rayburn, I’m guessing Rayburn will be sitting on all of Dr. Ellyson’s papers. That includes the Silenus manuscript and heaven knows what else. You’re going to need somebody who can sort through all of that and decipher the most relevant documents as quickly as possible. You can’t do this without me, Scot, and you know it.”

Not only did Harvath know it, but he hated it. Though she had proven herself quite capable, she wasn’t an operator, and the assignment was about to get a lot more dangerous. It was shades of Meg Cassidy all over again, except this time the civilian that fate was forcing him to bring with him into battle didn’t have the luxury of several weeks’ training with the best the intelligence community had to offer. All Jillian Alcott had was him.