Right there—thathadto be persuasion. Lehrer, accounting for the element of risk.
Noam swallowed and nodded.
Lehrer drew up an arm, tugging back his sleeve far enough to glance at his wristwatch. “Well then. I suppose you’d better be going. You wouldn’t want to be late on your first day.”
It was remarkable Lehrer couldn’t hear Noam’s heart pounding all the way from the other side of the room as Noam pushed himself up from the chair, draining the last swallow of scotch. Lehrer had spent so much time training Noam how to appear calm, even when he wasn’t.
Could he see the threads of his own design stitching Noam together?
Noam grabbed his satchel off the floor. “Okay. I’ll see you, then.”
He was almost at the door to the study, already halfway down the hall and outside Lehrer’s line of sight, when Lehrer said:
“Oh, and Noam ... you’ll come back here tonight. To debrief.”
Noam shut his eyes, one hand pressed flat against the wood of the door. “Yes, sir.”
So the game begins,Noam thought. But he got the feeling it was a game Lehrer invented—one where only Lehrer knew the rules.
CHAPTERTEN
DARA
Empty of people, the bar seemed larger than before, even though it was still just a narrow strip of space, hardwood floors and bar top both gleaming thanks to Leo’s vigorous deep clean. Dara sat at the end of the bar farthest from the liquor shelves, nursing a club soda and watching Leo scrub out a glass that already sparkled.
“You sure you don’t want any peanuts?” Leo said. “I bought more.”
“I’m good. Thanks.”
He glanced at his watch: three minutes till nine. What if no one else showed up? What if they were all too paranoid Leo was a traitor, what if they didn’t trust Dara’s judgment, what if they didn’t want him anymore since he ruined the gala plan—
But then the door swung open. In spilled Claire and Priya and a flurry of snow; Claire rubbed her gloved hands together and declared, “It’s cold as a frog’s behind out there.”
Dara turned his face toward his club soda—quickly, before they noticed his relief.
“You must be Leo,” Claire said, waltzing forward and thrusting a hand toward the bartender. “Claire. You have an admirable record.”
“Oh good,” Leo said, “you’ve researched me.”
“Don’t take it personal. We research everyone. This is Priya.”
Priya, busy examining the windows and back exit to make sure they weren’t bugged or watched, lifted a hand in acknowledgment.
The door opened again, this time depositing Holloway and still more snow on the welcome mat. “I hope I’m not late.”
“We’re glad you could get away,” Claire said.
Dara was the only one, it seemed, who noticed how Leo’s expression had gone rigid. He’d stopped cleaning the bar, both hands white knuckled where they gripped the edge of the counter.
Of course. Leo didn’t know Holloway like Dara did. To Leo, Holloway was the draconian new home secretary, an old guard Sacha loyalist. In his previous position as attorney general, Holloway pushed for the death penalty more often than all his predecessors. He’d charged army deserters with treason.
And perhaps that was something Leo had fantasized about, those darker nights down in Atlantia—packing up a rucksack and justwalking away.
It’s all fake,Dara wanted to tell Leo.It’s an act. Just politics.
Somehow he doubted that would change Leo’s opinion much.
Dara was about to ask for another lemon slice, to distract him, when the door opened a third time.
