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“Still. Are you sure this is the safest place?”

“Honestly, Doc, I don’t even know what that question means these days.”

“It means, asshole, that you convinced me to bring my family here. It means that right now my wife and our four-month-old daughter are on another helicopter heading for what’s looking like a war zone.”

“Would you feel safer in Manhattan?” Cooper gazed at him. “Convincing Bobby Quinn to let you come with me cost every favor he owed, and if he knew where I was taking you, he wouldn’t have. Would you prefer the DAR chasing you? Not to mention John Smith?”

“No.” Ethan blew a breath. “It’s just . . . I never signed up to fight a war.”

“That doesn’t keep you safe when the bombs fall.” The helicopter banked, and out the window he could see the mirrored city that was Tesla, the solar glass shining in the midday sun. “The only way out is through. You helped Abe figure out how to make people gifted once. Re-create that work, and General Miller and his posse won’t be a problem.”

Out the window, Tesla grew larger. The city was a neat grid arrayed around a cluster of shiny rectangular buildings that were the corporate heart of Erik Epstein’s power. More than $300 billion in assets, spread across every industry. Wealth as a living entity, wealth that grew and morphed and shifted, that fed on smaller companies and spread its tentacles to every facet of American life. It was hard to overvalue that much money; larger than the combined market capitalizations of McDonald’s and Coca-Cola, it had given rise to this new Israel in the heart of the American desert. A place where brilliants could live and work without fear.

Or at least that had been the idea. Cooper imagined the mood had changed some.

The airstrip was familiar. He had landed here twice before—once in a glider with Shannon, when he was undercover and they were both deceiving each other; once again a few weeks ago, aboard a US diplomatic jet, as an ambassador and special advisor to the president of the United States.

And now here you are again. Neither agent nor politician, but something different.

The moment the struts touched earth, Cooper began to undo his seat belt. He wasn’t sure his message had gotten through, but if it had, they’d be waiting for him—

“Is this it, then? For you and me?”

Still staring out the window, Cooper said, “For now, at least.”

“Then. Well. I never really thanked you.” The somber tone brought Cooper back to the moment, and he turned to see Ethan holding out his hand. “For saving my family. I owe you one.”

“No problem.”

“Actually, I get the feeling the whole world owes you.”

The sentiment, unexpected and probably overblown, nonetheless touched something in his chest. “Thanks, Doc.” He reached out and shook Ethan’s hand. “You did good.”

They stayed like that for a moment, hands gripping, and it filled him with that warmth he’d always gotten from fidelity and camaraderie, the same feeling that had made him proud to be a soldier all those years ago.

Then the hatch was opening, and through it Cooper saw three figures running his way, and he was out of his seat and on the tarmac and sprinting to meet them, sweeping his son and daughter into his arms, hoisting them up to his chest and all of them laughing and crying and smiling like they’d found the last safe place on earth. He squeezed until he thought their spines might pop, Kate clinging to him, Todd saying, “Dad, Dad, Dad!” and pounding his back.

When he opened his eyes, he saw Natalie standing there, a smile on her lips despite the fear he could read in her posture. “Hey, you,” she said.

“Hey, you.” He set down his children and embraced his ex-wife, neither of them holding back as the kids hugged their waists and the cold gray of the afternoon swept away.

“Mr. Cooper,” said a voice behind him.

He turned, saw a tall woman with the airy beauty of a runway model. It took him a moment to place her; Epstein’s communications director, her name was—

“Patricia Ariel,” she said. “I’ve got a car. Mr. Epstein is waiting for you.”

He still had one arm around Natalie’s back, and he felt her muscles tense. Todd and Kate both stared with identical heartbroken expressions. Cooper looked at them, then back at Ariel.

“Mr. Epstein,” he said, “is going to have to wait a little while longer.”

“Sir, he was very clear—”

“I think I’ve earned a day with my family. If Erik disagrees, he can send soldiers to get me.” He gave her a lazy smile. “But he better send a lot of them.”

Natalie and the kids were still in the diplomatic quarters, a tasteful three-story apartment on a public square. It was messy in a way he’d missed, that lived-in look that accompanied children—toys and books and blankets strewn about, plates in the sink, the smell of processed food in the air.