CHAPTER THIRTY ONE
Reid paced the floor of his home office, thinking a mile a minute as he waited impatiently for Maria to arrive. He wanted—no, he needed to tell someone what he was thinking, and at the moment she was one of the very few he could trust. He needed to make sure he wasn’t being paranoid, that insanity wasn’t setting in.
But the more he thought about it, the more wretched sense it made.
He had his laptop open on the desk, a search engine results page showing a long list of seemingly useless links. Crowded around it were five history books, yanked from his shelves and opened to indexes and entries—but still he had found little that linked his only clue to what was brewing in his mind.
Qafan. That was the password that disarmed the submarine drone’s override in Israel, the
