Radiant Angel by Nelson DeMille

happened in Yemen.”
    “Hey, I never thought of that.” I said, partly for Tess’ benefit, “So even though it looked to me like you and your CIA buddy were tryingto get me, Kate, and Brenner whacked, we got it all wrong. Please accept my apology.”
    “You haven’t lost any of your sardonic wit.”
    “And my aim is still good.”
    Tess said, “I think you two need to speak alone.” She looked at me. “Just listen and decide.” She turned and walked toward the bay.
    So Buck and I were alone. Maybe. I asked him, “Anyone with you?”
    “No.”
    “If you lie, you die.”
    “You have my word.”
    “Me too.” I nodded toward Tess. “Who is she?”
    “She’s not CIA if that’s your concern.” He tapped his side pocket. “I can show you her credentials.”
    “Nice and easy, Buck.”
    He slipped his hand into his pocket and pulled out a cred case.
    “Toss it.”
    He pitched it to me and I glanced at the open case in the dim light. I could make out her photo and name, Tess Faraday, and also the State Department seal. This meant nothing, of course—spooks carry whatever creds they need, and Buck understood I wasn’t fond of the CIA, or vice versa. In fact, the Agency considered me—and Kate—unfinished business.
    I put Tess’ creds in my pocket and said to Buck, “Turn around, hands against that tree, legs spread.”
    He complied without complaint and I frisked him. In this business, when you declare you’re unarmed, you better be unarmed, or the conversation is over. “Turn around.”
    He turned around, reclaimed his dignity, and took in his surroundings. “This is an appropriate place for a powwow. We will smoke the peace pipe and bury the tomahawk.”
    “I’d like to bury it in your fucking head.”
    “You’re not getting into the spirit of this place, John.”
    “Tell me why I shouldn’t kill you.”
    “Because you need to hear what I have to say about Colonel Petrov.”
    “You have three minutes.”
    He sat on the ground with his back against the tree. He looked like a tired old warrior who’d been called back to duty because the old enemy had suddenly reappeared.
    He invited me to sit, like we were going to smoke a peace pipe or something, but I declined.
    I glanced at the bay, where Tess had rolled up her pants and waded into the water up to her knees. These people—and I mean the entire sixteen separate agencies of the U.S. intelligence community—were a little weird. I stuck my gun in my belt and said, “Talk.”
    Buck began, “Tess has been briefing me on a regular basis, and when she called me from the pub in Southampton I decided it was worth my time to come out here from the city. Then when she called me from the diner, I was glad I did.”
    “Me too.”
    “You need to put Yemen behind you.”
    “I’m about to.”
    He looked at me and said, “John… you understand that I was just following orders… orders that I didn’t necessarily agree with, or feel good about.”
    “If you’re looking for sympathy, you’ll find it in the dictionary between shit and syphilis.”
    Buck’s “just following orders” crap didn’t work, so he tried out his charm. “I congratulate you on your bold decision to go undercover into Tamorov’s party.” He let me know, “What you saw changed everything tonight.” Buck saw I wasn’t charmed and he changed the subject. “How is Kate?”
    “You’re wasting your three minutes.”
    He ignored me and said, “I was happy to hear she got a promotion. But I was puzzled by your… taking a position with lesser responsibilities.”
    “Buck, fuck you.”
    He continued, “You’re a remarkable man, John, but I don’t think they appreciated you on the Anti-Terrorist Task Force.”
    Buck was fluent in Russian, so I tried that. “Yob vas.”
    He smiled, then went on, “Your supervisor, Tom Walsh, was undermining you. Which is strange, since he is so fond of Kate.”
    “Are you trying to get me to shoot you?”
    “I’m just making an