The Faithful Spy

“I have a special treat. Come on.” He grabbed his suitcase and strutted out of her office, leaving her to follow. Evidently she wasn’t the only one losing her mind.

At the best of times Shafer was an uncertain driver. Tonight he veered from lane to lane, speeding and tailgating, as they headed south, then east on the Beltway, toward Andrews Air Force Base.

“Where are we going, Ellis?”

“You’re an analyst. Analyze the situation.”

She felt herself flush with irritation. Shafer must be nervous. He wasn’t usually so juvenile.

“Ellis. This isn’t a fucking class trip.”

“Temper temper.”

“Fine,” she said. “Looks like we’re headed to Andrews. And you told me to pack for warm weather. I’ll say Gitmo.”

“Guantánamo?” Shafer laughed. “Come on, reporters tour that base. You think we keep anybody important there?”

“Then where?”

“A long way away.”

“Kuwait? Oman?”

“A place that doesn’t exist.”

“Diego Garcia,” she said.

“Well done.”

Diego Garcia was a U.S. naval base on a British island in the In dian Ocean, one thousand miles from the southern tip of India, even farther from Africa. The base wasn’t a secret, but it wasn’t exactly well publicized either. The Pentagon always denied holding al Qaeda members there, mainly to soothe British sensibilities. The Pentagon lied, Exley knew; Diego was home to several al Qaeda operatives.

“May I ask why?” she said. “Or do I have to play Twenty Questions again?”

“A month ago we caught somebody in Baghdad. A Pakistani nuclear scientist.”

“Why didn’t you tell me?”

“I’m telling you now.”

“And?”

“And he’s got some interesting information. I thought we should see him for ourselves.”

they sat in the upper deck of a C-5 Galaxy at Andrews Air Force Base, a row ahead of two scowling men whose passes identified them only as Mr. Smith and Mr. Jones. Below them, a company of Rangers sat in the aircraft’s giant cargo bay, along with pallets loaded high with MREs, ammunition, and even a couple of armored Humvees.

“Can this thing really fly?” Shafer said.

“Scared?”

“I just can’t believe how big it is. Did you know it can carry two M-1 tanks? It’s the biggest bird the air force has.”

“When did you start calling planes ‘birds’?”

“We’re lucky to get to ride in it. They don’t usually take civilians. I had to pull some serious strings.”

“I didn’t think you had too many strings left.”

Shafer leaned toward Exley as the C-5’s engines whined to life. “I don’t,” he said quietly, under the noise of the jets. “Remember that, Jennifer.”

Exley didn’t know what to say. Was Shafer exaggerating, or did he really have problems? The whine became a roar, and a throb of power ran through the plane’s frame. Exley felt the C-5 accelerating slowly, though without windows she couldn’t see the jet move. Shafer handed her earphones and a little white pill. “How about some vitamin A?”

“Vitamin A?”

“Ambien. See you tomorrow.”

He popped a pill into his mouth. A moment later she followed him down the rabbit hole.

exley’s phone rang and rang; she knew Wells was calling, but she couldn’t answer. An earthquake gripped her bed, lasting longer than any earthquake should, and every time she tried to pick up the phone it jumped away.

Then the phone stopped ringing, and fear gripped her. She’d lost Wells—

She woke up. For a panicked moment she couldn’t figure out where she was. Someone touched her shoulder and she yelped.

“You okay?”

The world came back into focus when she heard Shafer’s voice.

“How long was I out?”

Shafer looked at his watch. “Ten hours. Still a ways to go. You missed the movie.”

She needed a few seconds to realize he was joking. She supposed the Ambien hadn’t fully worn off yet. The plane was shaking; that accounted for her dream.

Shafer cocked his head toward her. An expression she couldn’t read crossed his face.

“What?”

“You and Wells look the same when you’re having a nightmare, you know that?”

Exley blinked in her seat. How did Shafer know what Wells looked like when he was dreaming? Was he telling her that he knew about the Jeep? The call? Was he just guessing? “You’re sleeping with him too?” she said.

Shafer laughed. “I saw him asleep once at Langley, that’s all.”

“Do we have any food on this bird?”

“I saved you dinner.” He handed her an MRE, a sealed brown plastic bag whose label informed her that it contained spaghetti and meatballs. She looked at it doubtfully.

“Not bad. Just make sure you use the heater. And you ought to stretch your legs.”

“Believe it or not I’ve flown before.”

He handed her a sheaf of papers. “Before we land you need to sign this.”

She flicked through them. “A secrecy agreement? Ellis, I have every classification there is.”

“Not for this. No one is graded for this.”

Exley felt her stomach drop again. This time it wasn’t turbulence. She had left the Jefferson a long way behind. “Just what are we doing to this guy?”