the dragons are our allies. God knows they don’t tell us everything. I doubt Friar tells his allies much.”
“I’m not sure Sam would care for the parallel, but you’re right.” Rule set the filled kettle on the stovetop. “What Friar does tell his hypothetical allies is probably a mix of lies and misdirection with just enough truth to get what he wants from them.”
“So let’s assume Direct Guy knows Cullen’s a sorcerer. He finds out that Cullen’s here. He could be having the place watched, or he may have been keeping track of flights to D.C. If he—”
“Wait a minute,” Cullen said. “You think one of our villains could get the airlines to watch for flights booked in my name?”
“The Bureau can do that sort of thing, and there’s a traitor in the Bureau. So yeah, I do.”
Rule moved up behind her and put a hand on her shoulder. “Drummond?”
“He’s top of my list, but it could be Mullins. Or Sjorensen, though she’s unlikely. At her level, she shouldn’t be able to add someone to the watch list.” She paused, then got it said. “The one who could do it the easiest is Croft.”
Silence.
She kept going. “He knows Cullen’s a sorcerer. That’s something people might figure out from reading some of my reports, so it’s only suggestive, not conclusive. But we need to keep it in mind.” She twisted her head to look up at Rule. “I need to know if Croft is part of the Shadow Unit. One of the ghosts.”
Rule shook his head. His lips were tight. “Ruben had a feeling Croft shouldn’t be told anything. He doesn’t know about the ghosts or Ruben’s visions. Ruben emphasized that he does not have a hunch that Croft is less than trustworthy, or he’d take steps to remove him. Foreknowledge can alter the way someone responds. Ruben believes that’s the case with Croft.”
“He believes that, or he had a hunch about it?”
“I’ve given you his words.”
“I don’t want it to be Croft. I like him. But we have to keep it in mind.”
Rule gave a single nod. The kettle started whistling. He turned to deal with it.
“I wish I knew who was working the bombing.” She opened her spiral, frowning at the notes she’d made. “There’s a lot of strings to tug on there, but they’re the sort that need a lot of manpower. A badge helps, too.”
Rule poured the steaming water into the French press. “That I can’t provide. Not directly. But I believe one of your resources has arrived.”
The doorbell rang.
She shoved her chair back. “How do you do that? We’re all the way at the back of the house. You couldn’t hear anyone walking up to the door from back here.”
“José told me.”
“You aren’t wearing your earbud.”
“He spoke from the backyard.”
She shook her head and headed for the door.
The man standing on her front stoop wore a wrinkled shirt, a mud-brown suit, and a bright orange tie. His hairline was receding, his waistline increasing, and she was really glad to see him. Also surprised. “Uh . . . are you my resource?”
“That’s not how you do it,” Abel Karonski told her disapprovingly. He dug one hand into his pocket and pulled out a small black rock. It glowed for two seconds, then quit.
“Am I supposed to show you mine?” She stood aside so he could come in.
“Nah. Rule told me. Well, technically it was Mika, but the message came from Rule. Took you long enough to make up your mind.”
So he’d known Ruben had asked her to join the ghosts. And that she hadn’t agreed ... not until her career was toast. “You found it an easy decision?”
He snorted. “Not easy, maybe, but simple. If the country’s survival hangs in the balance, it makes things pretty damn simple.”
“I didn’t find it either easy or simple.”
“I guess you’re at that in-between age. Too old to jump off just any old cliff. Not old enough to spot the one cliff in a hundred that’s worth the leap.”
Jumping off cliffs was not a reassuring metaphor for joining the ghosts. Accurate, maybe, but not reassuring. So why did she feel better? “With your people skills, you should have been a therapist.”
“That’s me, Mr. Sensitive. Want to tell me all about your feelings?”
“Now there’s a cliff you want to steer clear of.”
Karonski stopped when they were halfway through the dining room. He sighed. “Lily.”
She stopped, too. The parlor, dining room, and kitchen of the row house were shot-gunned, so there were no