The chopper touched down at the Kandahar base half an hour later. Too short for a nap—if that would have even been possible—and not long enough to properly discuss the details with Jackson. He’d been warned about using the onboard radio for sensitive information.

But there really wasn’t much mystery to it. Declan and Sophia had come to their conclusions about the general over a day ago. If the radio was working, he could have talked to Jackson about it, fill him in, who would likely corroborate everything. Declan was amazed that he had the resources in DARC to handle the legal case of Ironside, all while humping around in the desert looking for him and Sophia. There was that “multifaceted approach” that Jackson was always going on about.

“You ready?” Jackson asked him.

They entered the briefing room without their police. Jackson had told them to wait outside the door. The general, in contrast, had several other lesser-ranked members of his circle with him. They sat on either side of him, their strong, stoic faces almost intimidating Declan for a moment. He’d been taught all his life to respect authority figures, and these men were the epitome of authority. And he did trust and respect them—well, all but one. One, the bad apple. At least he and Jackson hoped that it was that isolated.

“You’re here now?” Ironside said, annoyance streaked across his face. The men beside him were murmuring. “I thought you said you’d talk to Joan and book a time through her. That’s why we pay her, to take and make appointments. What are you doing?”

Declan said, “We’re sitting down,” as he and Jackson took two chairs across the table.

“I knew it was bad news,” the general said, frowning. The medals on his uniform gleamed in the light. “Anything involved with this guy,” he said, pointing to Jackson. “Anything with him, when he comes walking unannounced into your meeting, you know you’ve got a problem.”

“Do you have a problem?” Jackson said.

“I’m looking at one.” The general gave a brief glance to Declan, then said, “I’m looking at two, to be accurate.”

The man next to the general coughed into a balled-up fist, cleared his throat, and let that fist drop hard on the table. “Gentlemen,” he said. “Archer . . .”

“Yes?” Jackson said.

“I don’t want to be caught up in your traveling circus. You got me? And neither does the general here, or the rest of these fine men. We understand you’ve done some great things, and we understand your father was a great man. But we also understand how you’ve made things ridiculous for a lot of people.”

“Who?” Jackson said. “The people we’ve caught doing ridiculous things?” Jackson stared at General Ironside. “It’s not our problem that people do ridiculous things to themselves. It’s their problem. And in this case, it might be your problem.”

“My problem is you marching in here like some cowboy,” the general said.“Both of you, like some Brokeback Mountain type fags. The only problem is how you’re conducting yourself and how much more tarnish you can smear over your father’s good name.”

Declan was surprised that Jackson didn’t immediately launch out of his chair, step across the table, and deliver a swift kick to the general’s face. Reality, like Jackson, stayed much more subdued, the DARC leader sitting calmly in his seat, hands loose and open in his lap. It was like he hadn’t even heard a word.

The general seemed a little surprised, too. He took a breath. “So is that what you plan to do here today? Tarnish a great many people?”

“It’s up to you,” Jackson said. “But I’m curious. Why are you assuming that I’m here for anything more than a regional status report?”

“Because that’s none of your fucking business.”

“It’s someone else’s business,” Jackson said. “That’s why I’m here, to collect intelligence and give a report.”

“That’s why you’re interrupting my own intelligence report? Look at these men here. What do you think we’re doing? Playing checkers?”

Declan looked at the rest of the room again. Stony faces stared back at him.

The general was strumming his fingers on the table. He stopped suddenly and said, “So? What will it be?” And then, in a low voice: “Why don’t you do everyone a favor and get the hell out of here before this gets ugly, whatever it is.”

“Sure,” Jackson said, shrugging. “I just have one question.”

“Pardon me?”

Declan couldn’t stay quiet a moment longer. “Do you by any chance know of a Sophia Sweeney?”

“No,” he said, answering way too quickly. An odd look then came over his face, something tense and foul that made his upper lip curl. He turned to his men and said, “I’m sorry for this, gentlemen. I really am.”

The man next to him said to Jackson, “Let me help you. Let’s go out in the hall and take a walk, and I’ll talk you out of making an even bigger ass of yourself.”

“No,” the general said. “No, I want him alone. In here.”

“Sir, I can call in—”

“No,” Ironside interrupted, his voice tight. And then easing up with, “No, it’s okay, it’s fine. We’ll have our talk here. We’ll get this over with.” He turned to his men with a smile and asked them very politely if they would give him and Jackson a few minutes alone.

“Declan stays,” Jackson said.

“Yes, fine,” Ironside said as he walked his men to the door. After a few words and a little wave, he shut the door. Then he turned to face the DARC men. He was still smiling.

Jackson thanked him for his cooperation.

The general nodded. “Now who is this person, this Sophia Sweeney? What can I help you with?”

“You know who she is,” Declan said.

“I may.”

“You do.”

“I know her privately,” he said. “That is to say, I’d only admit that privately. Lucky for you, I’m considering this a private conversation.” He walked back to his seat, sat with his hands folded in his lap. “Is this a private conversation?”

“It’s the start of an investigation,” Jackson said.

“Looks to me like it’s some boy scout mission.”

“So let’s talk about Sophia,” Jackson said. “You haven’t been concerned about her disappearance?”

“Of course I’m concerned.”

“Have you notified her father?”

“No.” The general shrugged. “I assumed he’d get that info from the proper channels.”

Jackson said, “Was there anything proper about enlisting the help of an untrained civilian to take part in your covert operations?” He waited as the general stared daggers into him. “Was she a proper channel?”

“She and her father are good friends of mine,” Ironside said. “Is that a problem, to have good friends whom you can trust?”

“Trust to place bugs in Assad’s mansion?”

“She did no such thing.”

“Hey,” Declan said. His anger bubbled over, and he did nothing to stop it. Somehow, despite everything from the last two days, the smug look on Ironside’s face was the worst injustice of all. “We’re trying to be courteous and respect your intelligence. The least you could do is—”

“I’m talking, aren’t I? For God’s sake, I don’t even know why I’m talking to you assholes.”

Declan knew the answer but didn’t offer it to him, that the reason he was being even this forthcoming, the reason he didn’t call at once to his guards to have them thrown out, was because he was guilty as hell. Guilty of something . . . There would be the proper time and men and resources to figure out later what exactly he was guilty of. But for now, Declan just knew he had blood on his hands.

He even looked guilty, his hands beginning to wring with another in his lap. That was probably why he kept them off the table, to hide how they’d begun shaking.

“You’re talking,” Jackson said.

“Of course I’m talking.”

“But you’re not really saying anything.”

“You want to know about Sophia Sweeney?” the general asked. “You really want to know?”

“We do,” Declan said.

“I have some documents about it, about her, in my back office.”

“Where?” Declan said.

Jackson huffed out a breath, appearing supremely bored. Declan’s eyes narrowed. He knew better. What the hell was his boss up to? “What we really want to know,” Jackson said, “is how she got involved with this mess. You heard about what she and Declan here just lived through.”

“I was in the process of getting briefed on that,” The general said. “Until you guys showed up. But what, specifically, would you like to know?” He looked behind him, at a door that might have presumably led to his “back office.” He said, “Shall I look back there and get out my folder on Miss Sweeney? Is that what you want?”

Someone must have tipped him off. Maybe not enough for the general to actually decline their interview, but enough to look and sound as antsy as he did. Declan wondered what he really had in the back office, aside from perhaps an imaginary folder on Sophia.

Perhaps a gun.

“Why don’t we just stay here and talk about it?” Declan said.

“Whatever you want,” Ironside said. “I’ll tell you whatever you want to know, because, obviously, my primary concern is figuring out how this young lady got herself into so much trouble.”

“Can you tell me about the bugs,” Jackson said, “and the reasoning behind having a civilian carry out such a dangerous mission when she’s had absolutely no—”

“She’s had experience,” Ironside said. “She’s helped us in the past. She’s an associate.”

It didn’t ring true for Declan, who’d just spent the last four days with her. She’d mentioned nothing about a prior history of intelligence work. And even if she had, he wouldn’t have believed it. She seemed so harmless and green and out of place.

“So, the bugs really weren’t a big deal,” the general said. “But if you must know, they were placed in Mr. Abbas’s palace to gather intel on terrorist sympathizers. I’m sure you know something about that, and the type of shady characters that hang out around Mr. Abbas.”

“One thing I know for sure, General Ironside, is that you’ve been working with him,” Jackson said, his voice still calm, despite the words making Declan’s skin crawl. “I have an insider to thank for that. The man’s son, who, for some reason, couldn’t bear to see a pretty, innocent girl killed for a corrupt general’s paycheck. Funny how that works sometimes.”

Declan felt a surge of anger that Jackson had kept him in the dark, but then again, maybe Jackson had known precisely how Declan would react and had wanted the general to survive long enough to get answers. He sucked in a breath, sending a small prayer of thanks for Sajad. He might have been on the wrong side, but perhaps he had him to thank, in part anyway, that he and Sophia were still alive.

“A false pretense to gain intel,” Ironside said calmly.

“You’ve been working very closely with Mr. Abbas, and his even shadier associates.”

“All part of the plan,” he said. “In the intelligence world, they call it deep penetration.”

Jackson sat up straight and ready in his chair. “Was it part of the plan to offer information on U.S. troop movements in exchange for later payoffs to be laundered through art dealings?”

The general paused, his face whitening. He pushed back his chair. “Let me just get you those documents.”

“No,” Declan said. “No documents.”

Ironside stood, wobbly-legged and uncharacteristically uncoordinated on his feet.

“No,” Jackson said. “Don’t. General, please stay seated. Stay right there.”

The general spun around and ran into the door, trying too slowly to turn the handle, fumbling with it before falling into the room and running out of sight. Jackson was already halfway there, around the conference table and barking orders for his military police to begin the arrest.

Declan met Jackson at the doorway, rushing forward and bumping past, first to enter the room where the general was found rummaging through a desk drawer.

“Freeze,” an officer yelled from behind them. “Don’t move!”

Ironside rushed away from the desk, Declan relieved to see that he’d come away empty-handed. Now those empty hands were clawing at a window that wouldn’t open. Clawing away like an animal. A rat.

“General Ironside,” the MP captain said, “you’re under arrest.”

Watching the officers move in to grab the general, slapping cuffs onto his wrists, Declan felt a twinge of jealousy. He wanted to least get a little piece of the action. A piece of the general. A good punch to the face for everything he’d put Sophia through.

But Jackson was indeed a smart man.

He had grabbed Declan, turning him around from the arrest scene. “Let it go,” he said. “It’s over. You have someplace else to be.”

Declan left the room, not needing a second glance back. Not needing anything from the general. He had better things to think about.