happened?â
âThe Iranians themselves most likely planted a bomb onboard,â he told her. âYou know, set to go off as soon as the plane left Gitmo? The brain trust here think the Iranian bigwigs never intended for the plane to get back home. Their POWs were all related to high government officials in Tehran, and the mullahs probably didnât want a bunch of Taliban heroes, with connections inside the government, to be running around loose. Iranâs a pretty volatile situation these days.
âNow, youâll probably never hear word one about this ever again. We got our Al Qaeda guys as promised at a checkpoint in Iraq, and the Iranians got rid of seven troublesome relatives, one way or another. A good day all around. Everyone should be happy.â
âExcept for the âspecial prisonersâ on the plane,â she said. âWho were they really?â
âWell, thatâs the bad news,â Nash answered slowly. âThatâs why I felt it was important to tell you all this. That you heard it from me firstâand not someone else.â
A much longer pause. âTheyâve IDâd at least two of the people who were aboard that plane.â
A troubled breath.
âAnd it was your bosses, Li,â he said. âThose guys Fox and Ozzi. We just got the official word from Gitmo. Both are confirmed deceased.â
Chapter 4
Li drove around Washington for the next hour, aimless, confused. Crying.
Very unlike her.
From the Potomac Parkway to Independence Avenue, along Constitution, and back on the Parkway again, sheâd tried to hold it in. But the tears finally came near 26th Street. There was a box of tissues in her car, just for such rare occasions. It was nearly empty by the time she reached the Whitehurst turnoff.
Fox and Ozzi â¦
After theyâd first gone missing, she eventually came round to thinking theyâd simply be missing forever. Never to be heard from again. Now this freaky plane crash. Their last moments a violent death in the Caribbean. That the Iranians would blow up their own plane was most certainly true. Li knew the mullahs had done it before to get rid of troublesome expatriates. But Fox and Ozzi? How did they get on that plane? And why? And what the hell were they doing in Cuba as prisoners in the first place?
More tears. More tissues. Maybe this was a grieving period she couldnât have anticipated. Maybe this was closure. But what really hurt, and it was selfish, she knew, was
that all that time sheâd been missing them, and thinking about them, the two had actually been alive, until just a few hours ago.
Fox and Ozzi.
The bastards â¦
Theyâd never even bothered to give her a call.
Â
A light flickered to life on her dashboard. She was running low on gas. She found herself back on the Parkway, in third gear, going 20 miles under the speed limit. The fuel-warning light got brighter. She didnât want to, but finally she put the pedal down. It was time to go home.
Windows open now, she looked around her and realized she was the only one on the road. The only one. This was odd ⦠. It was not yet ten oâclock. It was a spring evening. A Friday night, and the weather was perfect. The Parkway traffic was usually brisk at this hour. Instead, it was empty.
Foolishly she tried calling Nash again. Their conversation on the garage roof had ended with her hanging up on him just as he was saying: When can I see you again ⦠? But now his cell was turned off and she was being routed to his office voice mail. She was sure that was being tapped, so she didnât leave a message. What was the point? They were through, probably, her and Nash. And maybe that was a good thing. This was hardly a time for spies to fall in love.
She got off the Parkway and eventually reached 17th Street, not far from the White House. Again, the prospect of returning home was not a great one, but she needed some tea and then some