EPILOGUE
Three days after the explosion at Davos, a Cessna Citation X flew the transatlantic flight from Zurich Airport to Dulles International in Virginia. Inside the jet, Reid drummed his fingers against the leather armrest eagerly. The past few days had been grueling, seemingly endless hours of conferences, meetings, debriefings, telling and retelling his story over and over for various men in suits whose faces and names blurred together after a while.
But he was finally going home.
“Kent, you okay?” Maria sat beside him across the narrow aisle. “You look like a kid waiting for Christmas morning.”
“Yeah.” He smiled. “I’m great. I’m just excited to see them again.” Even the Cessna’s seven-hundred-mile-per-hour top speed wasn’t nearly fast enough to get him home to his girls, and now
