CHAPTER TWENTY EIGHT
“Funny,” said Maria, “I recall you telling me you didn’t find any leads in Slovenia.” She sat across from Reid in a plush, cream-colored seat. They were the only two passengers on a Gulfstream G650, a sixty-five-million-dollar aircraft traveling at Mach 0.86 toward Morocco.
I wasn’t sure I could trust you, he thought. He still wasn’t sure—though after what she had done for him, contacting the DNI and allowing his statement to be made, he believed he was getting closer.
“I’m sorry I kept it from you,” he said simply. “Really though, I should thank you. I couldn’t have handled any of that without your help.”
“Your kids will be safe,” she promised. “Watson and Carver are trustworthy. You have my word on that.” She laughed lightly. “You have to admit it’s a little iron
