The Cowl palace was for sale. There was no Michelle Montgomery in her Morse code bikini. No swaggering billionaire in his natural habitat of unparalleled luxuriousness. Devine looked around the train car and saw all gazes stuck to computer screens.
He took out his laptop and looked over the email he had crafted along with a large attachment. It documented everything he had found out about Cowl and Comely. He hit the Send key, and off it flew to one Elaine Nestor, the tarred-and-feathered journalist.
Go and win a Pulitzer, Elaine. And screw the powers that be and the dark money they suck on.
Devine found himself staring out the window and conjuring up images that bordered partly on nostalgia and partly on necessity. His need to feel something. To regret things. To sense guilt and loss and other things he couldn’t readily identify right now. Figuring out the inexplicable was never easy.
Sara Ewes and Jenn Stamos dead. Jill Tapshaw, too. Three remarkable women who could have done a lot of good in the world, given the chance.
But Tapshaw hadn’t given the other two the opportunity. In her brilliant, twisted mind they needed to be punished and removed from the living.
And Will Valentine, his beer-guzzling friend with more optimism than any person Devine had ever met, and who loved his adopted country more than some native-born citizens, was also dead.
But Michelle Montgomery was still alive, though denied a place at whatever table Devine would be heading to, alone.
But I have her phone number. And a letter from her in which she says she’ll always love me. Right now that is enough.
The train started up again with a jolt.
He turned away from the glass and stared straight ahead.
The only direction he could now see himself heading.
What lay there for him could be bullets or bombs once more. Or the more subtle entanglements that happened all over the world outside combat zones.
He didn’t know which was more dangerous, or whether it would end up being a tie.
He only hoped that he was up to the task.
Ranger tabbed and Ranger scrolled. And a seasoned financial analyst to boot.
Devine would probably need all of it and a little bit more to survive. Along with luck.
A good soldier never discounted the intervention of well-timed luck.
Redemption, a second shot, a new lease on life.
Maybe this was all of those things.
You’ll never know until you try, soldier.
He sat back, closed his eyes, and let the 6:20 train take him somewhere, one more time.
ACKNOWLEDGMENTS
To Michelle, thanks for the early read and great comments on this one.
To Michael Pietsch, Ben Sevier, Elizabeth Kulhanek, Jonathan Valuckas, Matthew Ballast, Beth de Guzman, Anthony Goff, Rena Kornbluh, Karen Kosztolnyik, Brian McLendon, Albert Tang, Andy Dodds, Ivy Cheng, Joseph Benincase, Alexis Gilbert, Andrew Duncan, Morgan Martinez, Bob Castillo, Kristen Lemire, Briana Loewen, Mark Steven Long, Marie Mundaca, Lynn von Hassel, Rachael Kelly, Kirsiah McNamara, Lisa Cahn, John Colucci, Megan Fitzpatrick, Nita Basu, Alison Lazarus, Barry Broadhead, Martha Bucci, Ali Cutrone, Raylan Davis, Tracy Dowd, Melanie Freedman, Elizabeth Blue Guess, Linda Jamison, John Leary, John Lefler, Rachel Hairston, Tishana Knight, Jennifer Kosek, Suzanne Marx, Derek Meehan, Christopher Murphy, Donna Nopper, Rob Philpott, Barbara Slavin, Karen Torres, Rich Tullis, Mary Urban, Tracy Williams, Julie Hernandez, Laura Shepherd, Maritza Lumpris, Jeff Shay, Carla Stockalper, Ky’ron Fitzgerald, and everyone at Grand Central Publishing. As my readers can see from the long list of folks, it does take an army!
To Aaron and Arleen Priest, Lucy Childs, Lisa Erbach Vance, Frances Jalet-Miller, and Kristen Pini, for being such great partners.
To Mitch Hoffman, for continuing to be an amazing editor and friend.
To Jeremy Trevathan, Lucy Hale, Trisha Jackson, Stuart Dwyer, Leanne Williams, Alex Saunders, Sara Lloyd, Claire Evans, Eleanor Bailey, Laura Sherlock, Jonathan Atkins, Christine Jones, Andy Joannou, Charlotte Williams, Rebecca Kellaway, Charlotte Cross, Lucy Grainger, Lucy Jones, and Neil Lang at Pan Macmillan, for continuing to amaze me with your creativity and dedication.
To Praveen Naidoo and the wonderful team at Pan Macmillan in Australia. Praveen, great to finally see you, albeit in a Zoom.
To Blake Smith and Thomas Dearden, for able assistance on the technology material.
To Caspian Dennis and Sandy Violette, for being far more than agents: for being dear friends.
To the charity auction winner, Paul Ekman （James V. Brown Library）， thanks for supporting such a great institution. I hope you enjoyed your namesake in the story.
To Chuck Betack, for all matters military. Thanks for making me look good.