“We’ll start there,” Riley said, having apparently gotten over the fact that his boss had bypassed him in running an asset.
“Thank you. Are you reading my cell number?”
“Yes, I’ve got it.”
“It’s eleven P.M. in L.A. Call me, no matter how late it is.”
“Will do.” Riley hung up.
There was a knock at the door, and Felicity Devonshire poked her head in. “Are you receiving company?”
“Sure,” Holly said, “come on in.” Felicity took a seat next to her on the sofa. “I think there’s some brandy over there,” Holly said, nodding toward a bookcase. “Can I get you one?”
“A small one, please,” Felicity replied.
Holly walked across the room and poked around a row of books until a panel came down, revealing a fully stocked bar. She returned to the sofa with a bottle of Rémy Martin and two snifters. She set them on the table. “You decide what a small one is.”
Felicity poured herself a stiff cognac, and Holly followed suit. “There’s something in the air,” Felicity said. “Anything I can help with?”
Holly took a sip of her brandy. “Now that you mention it, yes. Can you call your service and see what, if anything, you have on a Mohammad Shazaz, called Mo?”
“Certainly,” Felicity said, reaching into her handbag for her phone. “Just give me a moment.” She pressed a button. “Architect here,” she said. “Director of records, please.” After issuing instructions, she hung up. “There. Shouldn’t take long.”
“We haven’t had much of a chance to talk,” Holly said.
“Busy, busy, both of us.”
“I was looking forward to a little R&R when the agreement was signed, but now I don’t know.”
“I suspect you’re talking about the discovery of the bomb earlier today, and about Wynken, Blynken, and Nod.”
Holly nodded. “My best guess is that one of them is connected to the bomb and that the other two are lurking somewhere nearby.”
“That seems a logical conclusio
n,” Felicity said. “But after today’s search of the property, it would seem that they haven’t got the other two on the property. Yet.”
“You think they’re going to try?”
“One would suppose.”
“Your people at GCHQ picked up some of the same e-mails as NSA did, didn’t they?”
“That is so.”
“You know what bothers me about that?”
“Tell me.”
“It’s too easy.”
Felicity took a sip of brandy. “How so?”
“I mean, if you were running three operatives in a foreign location, would you pick easily connected names for them? Say, Tom, Dick, and Harry?”
“Or Wynken, Blynken, and Nod? That would be rather poor tradecraft, wouldn’t it?”
“It’s so stupid, it would have to be deliberate,” Holly said.