the almost-wedding and the news of her husband’s survival, Janice went right back to work. After all, it was one of the few things that comforted her. It was good for her, she thought, to keep her mind occupied.
Her biggest secret was not that she knew her husband had been undercover, but that after his death, she had started to work with the FBI. She hadn’t been trained in anything, and she didn’t want to do anything dangerous. But she had connected with her old friend Annabella Fritzheimer, otherwise known as Fritz, and had offered to serve in whatever way she could. After the death of her husband, Janice was inconsolable. She was so angry with the CIA for not protecting him that she refused all contact with his business partners, those who said they worked in “insurance” together. But she wanted to do something good for the world, something that would make his death worthwhile. In Janice’s mind, it was the good guys versus the bad guys.
Fritz, known as Bella to her childhood friends, was a true comfort. Janice had grown up with Bella and believed her to be one of the best. She had offered her store, her home, her life to Bella years ago, and after some time Bella had taken her up on it. It was funny she didn’t know until recently that her daughter had also been working with her childhood pal. But she was awfully glad that Bella had been keeping an eye on Susannah, that was for sure.
Janice used her store as a place to exchange messages between local and international undercover operatives. She seldom knew or understood the messages, only that she received texts from Fritz on a burner phone sent to her each week, detailing what to write and the code name of the recipient. She then inserted the messages into hollow ceramic animal sculptures. The sculptures were sold for twenty dollars each to the person who gave the code name. Most of the people who came in, she realized, were Israelis, likely special forces stationed all over D.C., Baltimore, and Virginia. She had become comfortable with her role as “average citizen helper to the FBI” over the last six years, but to make herself extra comfortable, she had purchased a gun that she kept under the counter, and she routinely went to a local shooting range to practice.
Just then the bell on the door sounded, and a man walked in. He was dark-skinned, tall, beautifully built, and had kind eyes. When he spoke, he had the Israeli accent Janice had come to know.
“Ms. Carter?” he said. “I am Rafael. I believe you are expecting me?”
“No,” Janice replied. “I’m sorry. Should I be?”
“Fritz said to check your phone. She thought you may not have looked.”
Janice felt her heart beat faster and went to get the burner phone she kept near her gun. Checking it, she saw she had one message from Fritz:
Buzz, Susannah, and Chas on the way back. Need to have you brought here to protect you. Rafael is one of ours. Go with him immediately. DO NOT STOP AT HOME. Fritz.
Janice paled but steeled herself with resolve. She grabbed the phone and put the gun in her purse. Then, wordlessly, she followed Rafael outside.
‡‡‡
CHAS, SUSANNAH, AND BUZZ were in the air, on their way back to Tangier. They were sitting in seats facing one another, all drinking ginger ale and looking amazed and confused. Buzz was the first to speak, and his words came out haltingly, coarsely, as though he was embarrassed by his own emotions. “I’m so sorry, honey,” he said, awkwardly and with a bit of hoarseness in his voice. “I don’t know what to say to you. I missed out on your life. I missed out on being your father. I’ve been watching you for years, and I want so badly to know you now that I have been given the second chance I never dared to hope for. You and your mother were the best things that ever happened to me, and I had to run from you—I had to, because I feared if I didn’t, one of these terrorists would use you to get to me, and in the most vile way
Her biggest secret was not that she knew her husband had been undercover, but that after his death, she had started to work with the FBI. She hadn’t been trained in anything, and she didn’t want to do anything dangerous. But she had connected with her old friend Annabella Fritzheimer, otherwise known as Fritz, and had offered to serve in whatever way she could. After the death of her husband, Janice was inconsolable. She was so angry with the CIA for not protecting him that she refused all contact with his business partners, those who said they worked in “insurance” together. But she wanted to do something good for the world, something that would make his death worthwhile. In Janice’s mind, it was the good guys versus the bad guys.
Fritz, known as Bella to her childhood friends, was a true comfort. Janice had grown up with Bella and believed her to be one of the best. She had offered her store, her home, her life to Bella years ago, and after some time Bella had taken her up on it. It was funny she didn’t know until recently that her daughter had also been working with her childhood pal. But she was awfully glad that Bella had been keeping an eye on Susannah, that was for sure.
Janice used her store as a place to exchange messages between local and international undercover operatives. She seldom knew or understood the messages, only that she received texts from Fritz on a burner phone sent to her each week, detailing what to write and the code name of the recipient. She then inserted the messages into hollow ceramic animal sculptures. The sculptures were sold for twenty dollars each to the person who gave the code name. Most of the people who came in, she realized, were Israelis, likely special forces stationed all over D.C., Baltimore, and Virginia. She had become comfortable with her role as “average citizen helper to the FBI” over the last six years, but to make herself extra comfortable, she had purchased a gun that she kept under the counter, and she routinely went to a local shooting range to practice.
Just then the bell on the door sounded, and a man walked in. He was dark-skinned, tall, beautifully built, and had kind eyes. When he spoke, he had the Israeli accent Janice had come to know.
“Ms. Carter?” he said. “I am Rafael. I believe you are expecting me?”
“No,” Janice replied. “I’m sorry. Should I be?”
“Fritz said to check your phone. She thought you may not have looked.”
Janice felt her heart beat faster and went to get the burner phone she kept near her gun. Checking it, she saw she had one message from Fritz:
Buzz, Susannah, and Chas on the way back. Need to have you brought here to protect you. Rafael is one of ours. Go with him immediately. DO NOT STOP AT HOME. Fritz.
Janice paled but steeled herself with resolve. She grabbed the phone and put the gun in her purse. Then, wordlessly, she followed Rafael outside.
‡‡‡
CHAS, SUSANNAH, AND BUZZ were in the air, on their way back to Tangier. They were sitting in seats facing one another, all drinking ginger ale and looking amazed and confused. Buzz was the first to speak, and his words came out haltingly, coarsely, as though he was embarrassed by his own emotions. “I’m so sorry, honey,” he said, awkwardly and with a bit of hoarseness in his voice. “I don’t know what to say to you. I missed out on your life. I missed out on being your father. I’ve been watching you for years, and I want so badly to know you now that I have been given the second chance I never dared to hope for. You and your mother were the best things that ever happened to me, and I had to run from you—I had to, because I feared if I didn’t, one of these terrorists would use you to get to me, and in the most vile way
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