The Mark of the Assassin

damn where the orders come from." Elizabeth snapped.
    "You promised me you'd be back in time. Now you're breaking that
    promise."
    "Elizabeth, the situation is out of my control."
    "That's bullshit! Nothing is out of your control. You do exactly what
    you want to do. You always have."
    "It's just one extra day, then I'll be back. I'll come straight to New
    York. I'll be there in time for your implantation."
    "Well, gosh, Michael, I wouldn't want to inconvenience you. Why don't
    you stay in London an extra day or two, take in some theater or
    something?"
    "That's not fair, Elizabeth, and it's not helping the situation."
    "You're goddamned right it's not fair."
    "There's nothing I can do about it."
    "Whatever you do, Michael, don't rush back for my sake, because I'm not
    sure I want to see you right now."
    "What are you saying?"
    "I'm not sure what I'm saying. I'm just angry and hurt and disappointed
    in you. And I'm scared as hell, and I can't believe you're making me go
    through this alone."
    "It's not my choice, Elizabeth. It's my job. I don't have any choice."
    "Yes, you do, Michael. You do have a choice. That's what frightens me
    the most."
    She was quiet for a moment, the hiss of the satellite connection the
    only sound on the line. Michael had run out of things to say. He wanted
    to tell her he loved her, tell her he was sorry, but it seemed like a
    stupid thing to do. Finally, Elizabeth said, "When we were on the
    telephone at Heathrow, before the attack, you said you had something to
    tell me."
    Michael thought back through the confusion and violence of the terror at
    Heathrow and realized he was about to tell her the things he had learned
    about Sarah. The last thing he wanted to do now was make the situation
    worse by telling Elizabeth he had been investigating the murder of his
    former lover.
    "I can't remember what we were talking about," he said. Elizabeth
    sighed. "My God, you're a terrible liar. I thought all you spies were
    supposed to be good at deceiving people."
    She paused, waiting for him to say something, but he had nothing left to
    say. "Good luck tomorrow, whatever it is you're doing. I love you."
    The line went dead. Michael quickly redialed, but when the call went
    through he received nothing but the annoying blare of a busy signal. He
    tried again, but it was the same, so he hung up the telephone and went
    downstairs to face Helen's dinner.
    "MAYBE YOU SHOULD ASK CARTER to send someone else," Graham said. They
    were seated outside in the garden, around a wrought-iron table, smoking
    Graham's cigarettes. The rain had stopped, and the moon shone
    intermittently through broken cloud. "We can't send someone else. They
    asked for me. They know my face. If we try to send someone else, the
    whole thing will go down the drain."
    "Ever consider the possibility you're walking straight into a trap?
    These are dicey times. The Sword of Gaza might enjoy taking down a
    company man, especially after the stunt you pulled at Heathrow today."
    "They gain nothing by killing me. You know as well as I do that they
    don't kill indiscriminately. They kill for a reason, and only when they
    believe it will advance their cause."
    "I take it Elizabeth is less than thrilled about the situation."
    "That's putting it mildly. She doesn't know what I'm doing tomorrow, but
    she doesn't like it." Michael told him everything.
    While the nature of their work sometimes mandated professional
    discretion, there were few personal secrets between them. "I hope you
    know what you're doing, mate. Sounds rather serious to me."
    "I don't need a marriage counselor right now. I know I'm fucking up, but
    I want to hear what Awad has to say."
    "My experience with these bastards suggests he won't say anything
    useful."
    "He wouldn't be putting himself in jeopardy if he didn't have something
    to tell us."
    "Why don't you just snatch the bastard and throw him in jail? Or better
    yet, see to his expedient demise."
    "It's tempting, but we don't operate like that. Besides, they'll only
    hit back harder."
    "Can't get much harder than it got today, darling."
    A siren howled in the direction of Sloane Square. Michael reflexively
    thought of Sarah. Graham said, "Ever find friend Drozdov?"
    Michael nodded. "He tell you anything useful?"
    "He was quite helpful, actually. He knew who I was. He told me why Sarah
    was killed."
    Michael told him the story. When he finished, Graham said, "Jesus
    Christ, I'm sorry, Michael. I know how much she meant to