She moved onto a path between the gravestones, paved with broken seashells that crunched beneath our feet. I took my Glock out of my pocket and followed, keeping five feet between us.

The graveyard was dimly lit by the half-moon overhead, and tall trees cast moon shadows across the graves and paths. A sea breeze rustled the branches, creating the appearance of movement on the ground.

When someone tells you they want you to meet someone, you get the mental image of one person waiting for you to show up. In fact, however, there could be several people waiting for you. And this was not the first time my curiosity got the better of my usually good judgment.

Tess said, in a soft voice, “Straight ahead is Shinnecock Bay. That’s where we stop.”

We continued on the path. The gravestones were not big enough to conceal anyone, but the tree trunks were wide. Ahead, I could see the moonlight sparkling on the bay.

The ground sloped down toward the water and I closed the distance between us.

Tess glanced back at me and saw I was holding my gun at my side. “Relax, John.”

“Keep moving.”

She continued toward the bay and we came to the end of the gravestones, about twenty yards from the shore. She stopped, facing the moonlit bay. “It’s so beautiful here.”

I glanced to my left and right, and behind me, then I looked out at the bay. On the opposite shore, about three miles away, was the Shinnecock Coast Guard Station and the Ponquogue Bridge that connected the mainland of Long Island to the barrier island, along which I could see large waterfront homes.

It occurred to me that Petrov’s amphibious craft had hundreds of miles of shoreline where it could make land—beaches, inlets, coves, creeks, and marshland.

But losing Petrov might be the least of my problems tonight.

Tess turned around and faced me, glancing again at the gun in my hand. “You understand that if this is a trap, that’s not going to do you any good.”

“Wanna bet?”

“And I hope you also understand that… well, that I’ve grown honestly fond of you.”

I had no reply.

“Just to set the record straight, I’m not married. And to be honest, I’m sorry you are.”

Well, hey, if I were going to cheat on my wife, it would certainly be in a graveyard with a woman who lied to me for months. And to make it more enticing, I just disarmed her and we were waiting for a mystery man to show up. I wish I’d brought my handcuffs.

The good news, if there was any, was that Ms. Faraday’s personal interest in me could not possibly be a prelude to an ambush. Though perhaps she wanted me to drop my guard.

“John?”

“You’ll understand that there may be some trust issues here.”

“I understand. So let’s revisit this later when we get all this behind us.”

“Well… I’m happily married.”

“Now who’s lying?”

That sort of pissed me off, but she had a point—though I didn’t know where she got it.

My cell phone vibrated and I looked at the text: I’m behind you. Don’t shoot.

I turned, and coming up the path was a man dressed in tan slacks and a dark blazer. As he got closer I could hear his footsteps on the seashells, then I could see his face, and it was none other than Buckminster Harris of State Department Intelligence, who I’d last seen in Yemen, right before he left me to be killed by a gang of Al Qaeda cutthroats.

So now one of us could take care of some unfinished business.

CHAPTER FIFTEEN

I’m unarmed,” declared Buck Harris as he held out his hands where I could see them.

“I’m not.”

He stepped closer to me and inquired, “Will you shake hands with me?”

“Why don’t I just kick you in the balls?”

“I sense some anger, John.”

Tess interjected, “Whatever issues you both think you need to settle will have to wait.” She reminded me, “The mission comes first.”

I didn’t know I was on a mission. I was on a fucked-up surveillance. But I guess Tess and Buck were on a mission.

I stared at Buck Harris in the moonlight. He still looked good for a man in his seventies, though he was pale compared to the last time I saw him with his Yemen tan.

Buckminster Harris was an old Cold Warrior, a leftover from the days when all we had to worry about was nuclear annihilation. He was, I had to admit, a charming gentleman when he wasn’t plotting to get me killed.

He said to me, on that subject, “You may have misinterpreted what happened in Yemen.”

“Hey, I never thought of that.” I said, partly for Tess’ benefit, “So even though it looked to me like you and your CIA buddy were trying to get me, Kate, and Brenner whacked, we got it all wrong. Please accept my apology.”

“You haven’t lost any of your sardonic wit.”

“And my aim is still good.”

Tess said, “I think you two need to speak alone.” She looked at me. “Just listen and decide.” She turned and walked toward the bay.

So Buck and I were alone. Maybe. I asked him, “Anyone with you?”

“No.”

“If you lie, you die.”

“You have my word.”

“Me too.” I nodded toward Tess. “Who is she?”

“She’s not CIA if that’s your concern.” He tapped his side pocket. “I can show you her credentials.”

“Nice and easy, Buck.”

He slipped his hand into his pocket and pulled out a cred case.

“Toss it.”

He pitched it to me and I glanced at the open case in the dim light. I could make out her photo and name, Tess Faraday, and also the State Department seal. This meant nothing, of course—spooks carry whatever creds they need, and Buck understood I wasn’t fond of the CIA, or vice versa. In fact, the Agency considered me—and Kate—unfinished business.

I put Tess’ creds in my pocket and said to Buck, “Turn around, hands against that tree, legs spread.”

He complied without complaint and I frisked him. In this business, when you declare you’re unarmed, you better be unarmed, or the conversation is over. “Turn around.”

He turned around, reclaimed his dignity, and took in his surroundings. “This is an appropriate place for a powwow. We will smoke the peace pipe and bury the tomahawk.”

“I’d like to bury it in your fucking head.”

“You’re not getting into the spirit of this place, John.”

“Tell me why I shouldn’t kill you.”

“Because you need to hear what I have to say about Colonel Petrov.”

“You have three minutes.”

He sat on the ground with his back against the tree. He looked like a tired old warrior who’d been called back to duty because the old enemy had suddenly reappeared.

He invited me to sit, like we were going to smoke a peace pipe or something, but I declined.

I glanced at the bay, where Tess had rolled up her pants and waded into the water up to her knees. These people—and I mean the entire sixteen separate agencies of the U.S. intelligence community—were a little weird. I stuck my gun in my belt and said, “Talk.”

Buck began, “Tess has been briefing me on a regular basis, and when she called me from the pub in Southampton I decided it was worth my time to come out here from the city. Then when she called me from the diner, I was glad I did.”

“Me too.”

“You need to put Yemen behind you.”

“I’m about to.”

He looked at me and said, “John… you understand that I was just following orders… orders that I didn’t necessarily agree with, or feel good about.”

“If you’re looking for sympathy, you’ll find it in the dictionary between shit and syphilis.”

Buck’s “just following orders” crap didn’t work, so he tried out his charm. “I congratulate you on your bold decision to go undercover into Tamorov’s party.” He let me know, “What you saw changed everything tonight.” Buck saw I wasn’t charmed and he changed the subject. “How is Kate?”