Now, it’s 2015. Fifteen years ago, Casey Collins’s Polish lover was murdered and she lost heart for the war against terror.
After 9/11, the State Department intelligence analyst knew she’d also lost her touch.
These days, she works in tiny US embassies far from Washington, doing routine admin work that numbs her.
The highlight of her day is happy hour. Nothing gets between her and her five o’clock gin and tonic.
Except the ancient spymaster limping into the American Club of Dhaka, waving his cane in her face, and telling her that her godson is falling into a Chinese honey trap.
Playing with fire
“Look, I get that you needed a break after 9/11,” Harry said. “But burying yourself back of beyond for more than a decade? Way too long. The world hasn’t gotten any safer. We need you.”
“I didn’t do my job right. I had to get out of the way.”
His fists clenched. “God, Casey. I can’t bear to watch you waste all that talent.”
“I can’t bear to do what I did before.”
“You can’t bear to do what you do so well.” Harry bit off his words. “Yet you’re back with that goddam Viking vigilante. Gearing up to talk to Bella on his behalf concerning a subject you won’t disclose. Why him and not us?”
“I’ve turned him down half a dozen times in the past ten years. But this is a whole different thing. Trust me.”
“I might trust you. But I don’t trust him. And you have a blind spot where he’s concerned.”
He put a hand on my arm and leaned in.
“Looks to me like you’ve come in from the cold so you can play with fire.”