She decided to walk to his hotel, going through the shopping district on the way. It was late in the afternoon, but the stores would be open. It would give her time to decide on what she was going to say. How she was going to take the rejection, which she knew was coming.

She sat up and popped the top on a bottle of water, knowing she’d end up paying for it. This hotel was on her dime—her credit card—but she didn’t mind. She was seeing the world, with or without Chris.

She stood up, looking at herself in the mirror and wondering if it was something she’d done, when her hotel phone rang, startling her.

She answered.

“Yes, this is room service. We’ve been to your door twice, and nobody answers. Do you wish the dinner you ordered?”

“I didn’t order any food. I just got here.”

“Is this room three forty-two? Gustavos Bittering?”

“No. I’m in room four nineteen. It wasn’t me.”

“So sorry, madame. Forgive the intrusion.”

She hung up the phone, happy that the man on the other end at least spoke English with an accent she could understand. She stood up, putting on her scarf.

*   *   *

Jacob disconnected his cell and said, “Room four nineteen. We should go right now. Take her in the hotel.”

Omar leaned back and said, “I’m not sure. What can she do before the ceremony? I’m thinking we let her run amok. Trying to kill her now may be more trouble than it’s worth.”

“That’s a mistake. She’s determined, and she’s not an idiot. I think she smells something wrong. If she confirms it, she’s going to raise an alarm, and we’ll show up tomorrow to an arrest.”

Omar said, “But that would be better than being a shahid, no?”

Jacob smiled at the insult from their earlier conversation and said, “Same as you. Same as you.”

On the train, an hour out of Rome, Jacob’s new phone had rung, and Omar had demanded he provide the passport information from Fart Boy, the kid he’d killed and assumed the identity of. He’d given it, then provided Omar the rundown of his fears with the woman. Jacob heard the suspicion in Omar’s voice, but had no time for it. He agreed to call when he arrived, and hung up. He spent the rest of the train ride alternately thinking of his future and the mission. Deciding what he would demand from Omar.

After they’d arrived in Rome, he’d exited the train rapidly, before the woman could identify him, and waited. She’d finally appeared, clearly lost. He’d followed her back and forth, aimlessly wandering about looking for an exit, then eventually out of the train station, getting into the cab line right behind her. When his cabby had asked, “Where to?” he’d actually uttered the most trite thing imaginable. “Follow that cab.”

He’d identified where she was staying, then had the cab drop him off in Trastevere. Not wanting anyone to be able to reconstruct his movements, he exited four blocks away from the safe house, paying the cab with Chris Fulbright’s credit card. He’d found a pub called the Mate Bar just outside of the American John Cabot University and called Omar.

Omar had arrived with a small duffel bag and a large amount of hostility. Jacob had explained where they stood. The risk of the woman, but more than that, he told Omar the thoughts that had been plaguing his mind. Where his dedication lay. What he wanted.

Omar had opened up the duffel and showed the hilt of a sawed-off shotgun. He’d said, “Remember what we talked about in Istanbul. The attack is tomorrow. You are with the Islamic State, or not. Are you with me?”

Jacob had said, “I am with you. With you. I will not be a shahid. My life is worth more than that. Just as yours is. You can send Devon and Carlos to their deaths, and they’ll do it willingly. I will not.”

Omar had leaned back, saying, “What does that mean, with me?”

“It means I’m better than the others. I’m not cannon fodder. You know it. You told me that very thing. I want to work for you. I want to be your second in command. We’ll do the mission tomorrow, and we’ll succeed, but I won’t be the man killing the target. I’ll control it, and I’ll get out, just like you. From there, we’ll take the fight to whomever you want.”

He’d seen Omar’s face cloud, and wondered if he’d pushed too far. But he didn’t really care. He’d made his decision. He was better than a shahid, and all that mattered was whether Omar agreed. If he didn’t, they’d wrestle for the shotgun. If he did, they’d move forward.

He’d waited. Omar had tapped his fingers on the table, his cobalt eyes on Jacob. Finally, he’d said, “You wish to move into leadership of the Islamic State? You, who have never shown any allegiance to Islam?”

“No. I wish to work under you, and you alone. If it supports the Islamic State, so be it. Religion means little to me. It’s just a method for people to justify their actions, which is why I have no trouble killing the Christian tomorrow. I’ve seen what he causes.”

Omar had studied him, then said, “We’ll take this one step at a time. You won’t have to martyr yourself tomorrow, but it’s not for the reasons you state. I can’t guarantee you can get in, so I’ve already thought about altering the plan. Devon and Carlos have confirmed seats, and are rehearsing with the explosives right now, but because we didn’t have your passport, because you were on this chase after the female, we may not get you cleared for security. We’ll find out tomorrow.”

“If I hadn’t, the only thing promised to Devon and Carlos would be handcuffs when they show up. She needs to be killed.”

“But we lose the propaganda. Carlos and Devon were going to eliminate his personal security, giving you space for your speech prior to the final explosion. Now it’ll have to be quick, and the speech will be done on the Internet, after the fact, competing with others wanting credit.”

“It can’t be helped. I didn’t make the woman up. And there are ways to ensure they know who did the attack. Evidence we can leave. You and I.”

“Do you even know her room?”

Jacob had picked up his cell phone, saying, “I will shortly.”

78

Sitting with Jennifer and Brett outside of the hotel, I waited for the cell to connect. After three rings, I heard Shoshana say, “Well, that didn’t take too long. Did you miss me?”

She sounded nonchalant, but I knew she’d been waiting. She’d probably been sitting in a hotel room staring at her phone, begging it to ring.

I said, “I’ve had a little downsizing to my team. I had to leave Knuckles and Retro in Venice, and I could use some additional muscle here in Rome.”

“That sounds interesting. Does it involve the busty woman?”

I laughed. “Exactly. I have her room, and I could use a female touch. Meet me at the outdoor café on Via Veneto. Right outside the Hotel Imperiale.”

She said she was five minutes away, and hung up. I turned to Jennifer, “I want you and Shoshana to talk to her. Be nice—you know, girl talk. I don’t think she’s involved in whatever the Lost Boys are up to, but she’s tied somehow. There’s way too much smoke around her.”

We’d landed a little over an hour ago, and, because we were leaving a huge trail flying all over the place without a whole lot of justification for Grolier Recovery Services, I’d asked Kurt for the use of a safe house instead of checking into another hotel.

We had them in every major city, rented from about four hundred different cutouts, but we rarely occupied them. A safe house was supposed to be just that: safe. If you used it every two weeks, you tended to draw attention to it, and risked compromise. In this case, I deemed our heat state from flying all over the world a justifiable reason not to splash our names into yet another hotel registry.