It was an hour before midnight when Sam and Tommy retired to the seminary's flat rooftop, with a case of cold beer, in order to finish a conversation they'd begun an hour earlier. Tommy had arrived soon after dark, after having raced to Chicago to confer on his and Sam's encounters of the day. Some things simply were best done in person, and this was the first undisturbed chance Sam had to get his friend alone and to pick his brain.

It was Tommy, however, who chose the topic of conversation.

"So, you trust your new friends to be alone with the girls?" Tommy asked as soon as they'd taken up a pair of lawn chairs and deposited the cooler of beer between them.

"You're the expert on human nature, old man," Sam replied. "What do you think?"

Tommy shrugged as he so often did. At times, it seemed like the man could hold an entire conversation doing little else. But this time he added some words.

"I don't sense any real malice in any of them. I mean, I can't say that I'm thrilled at how they made their living till recently, but they seem worth helping." He took a drink from the cold can of cheap domestic and looked at Sam. "Celia has checked them out?"

"The whole time I was quizzing them, she was listening in. She says they are what they present themselves to be, people who did something stupid that they never would've done under different circumstances. In any event, they won't be here long."

The trio of newcomers had made themselves to home at the seminary, and even now Nan, with Celia's help, was in the kitchen cooking something spicy. The woman had said little of herself, but Tommy thought it likely that she was from Turkey, though not ethnically Turkish. Sam hadn't a clue how his friend had come to that conclusion.

And he didn't speculate on the woman. It was enough that Celia felt safe in her company. Lydia and Christy were with the other newcomers talking and watching TV. It was so tranquil and domestic that Sam already felt a certain twinge at the thought of their new friends leaving in a few days. But each already had made their own plans. They just needed help getting there.

"I'm glad to hear that," said Tommy. "Woulda been a shame you taking that whooping and not getting anything from it."

"I gave as good as I got," the old man crowed.

"You look like a truck hit you."

Sam already had recovered from the brutal combat he'd had that morning with Summerall and his companions—well, mostly he had recovered—and poopooed the whole thing. "I've cut myself worse shaving."

"You've never cut yourself shaving," said Tommy. "But tell me, what sort of visibility do you have on the rest of the Morse people."

Sam gave a vigorous nod. "Hopefully a good start. Nan was sort of a mother figure to a lot of them, even some of those not foolish enough to sign on with Summerall. She won't name names, but she said she'd spread the word around."

"Meaning what?"

"Meaning she keeps in touch with some, and hopefully the rest of the Morse people will reach out to us. I made it clear to all of them that there are no lifetime get-out-of-jail-free cards, but I'd rather know who these people are and what they're up to than to get blindsided again."

"Uncertainty is its own type of anxiety."

"Come again?"

"It's something my lunch date said today over smoked chicken and whiskey. Apparently, Chaney and Morse were causing a lot of people a lot of anxiety."

"And what," asked Sam, "nature abhors a vacuum?"

"Yeah, pretty much. I think there's still a lot of anxiety over what's going on in the U.S., at least as it concerns people like us."

"I guess we should've guessed foreign powers would be keeping track of what was going on here. Is that why your new young friend is in the country?"

Tommy seemed to think for a moment. "She said not, but I'm not completely convinced one way or the other."

The old man killed his first beer and gave one of his devilish smiles. "Please tell me you behaved yourself with that young woman today?"

"I was an absolute gentleman."

"Yeah, that's what I'm afraid of—and I still cannot believe you gave her your phone number."

"I gave her a phone number, not my phone number. She could be an important ally to us. And, yes ... I kept Rhonda fully briefed on the entire situation."

"That woman is a saint," Sam said of the nurse. "How much you think we can trust this new girlfriend of yours?"

Tommy appeared to think a few beats longer this time. "It is very tough to say. But the fact she has only one living relative gave me a little hope."

"You completely lost me."

"You know how it is Sam. Not too many people like us have the power to write their own rules, but they do come along from time to time. She thumbs her nose at her bosses just enough to make it feel convincing."

"Again, I don't follow."

"The one near foolproof way governments have of keeping people like us in line—"

"Oh, I getcha," said Sam. "Through their families."

"Exactly, especially in traditional societies where people have large extended families. A bloke might be bulletproof, but that doesn't protect his kin. Governments have always used those we love as handles."

"And this young lass is immune to that?"

"I don't know if 'immune' is the right word, but according to her, she only has one living relative, the guy who raised her, an elderly uncle. She described him as being something of a cantankerous old fart."

"She sounds like a free spirit," said Sam.

"She does somewhat, and seems to have a decent moral compass. As for believing and trusting her? She might be an exceptionally good liar, but I don't think so. The only time I got the sense that she was being deceptive was on topics that I probably would have been deceptive too."

"Such as?"

"Intelligence types are freakishly sensitive about sources and methods. The only times I felt she was being less than perfectly candid was when her talking might have let slip how she'd acquired a particular piece of information—or from whom."

"You've got me there," Sam said candidly.

"Well, the big one was this Morgan fellow. I think she knows more about him than she's letting on, and that's probably because Chinese intelligence has a source close to him."

"As in a human source?"

"Probably."

"That makes sense. Is this Morgan a danger to us? You said he was what? Some sort of broker?"

"I don't know," said Tommy with a tired sigh. "But I think we need to find out."

It dawned on Sam that finding out about Morgan meant one of them would need to go overseas, to Europe or elsewhere. He felt for Tommy. Sam could speak a little Spanish, but he was at home in the U.S. Tommy could blend in anywhere.

"So, when you leaving?" he asked.

"In about six weeks, I think. Our friend the SecDef wanted me to go along with one of his boy scout teams to Morocco, to check out the Hollirich business there. I'd planned on telling him no—"

"But with this new business?"

Tommy nodded. "Yeah, two birds with one stone. I have a bad feeling about this Morgan guy. I don't know what it is, but I think there's a threat there, one we need to take seriously."

"You think he was tied up with Morse and Chaney?"

"That's what I asked Bai Lin. She said she didn't know, but that's another thing I'm not certain she was being honest about."

"If there was nothing there, she wouldn't have lied."

"Exactly," Tommy agreed. "And that's another few weeks I'll be away from home."

Sam new his friend well, and there was no mistaking his annoyance and anxiety at again being away from home. Under the best of times, Tommy was something of a homebody—at least he'd become one since meeting Rhonda—but these weren't the best of times. And Sam could tell his friend even now was champing at the bit to get home.

"You don't need to take the whole world on your shoulders," he told Tommy. "I'll bring the girls out while you're gone, get Rhonda ensconced back in your house, and—you know what, there's something you said about the girls, last week I think it was."

"What's that?"

"You said something about the girls needing to take part in their own rescue, or they would never feel truly safe. I thought about that. Maybe we've been too gentle with the folks we helped get out of Utah."

"Okay, you're thinking what?"

"They all check in from time to time," said Sam, "the one's here in Chicago, that is. Most worry about becoming victims again, but a few are interested in helping out. One or two seem positively eager."

Something inexplicable flashed across Tommy's face. Sam fought to suppress a smile. Tommy Haas was not openly sentimental, but it had become obvious to Sam that his friend cared deeply about the people who they'd helped. In the same way Sam fretted about the girls, and had to fight the impulse to smother them with protection, Tommy worried over those they'd rescued in Utah.

He continued speaking before Tommy could interrupt.

"There's a young fella who was in the control group who might want to help, maybe by watching our new Chinese friends," he said. "You are still interested in keeping an eye out for what they are up to?"

Tommy nodded. "I think that should be high on our list until we get a better read on their intentions. I mean, I get good vibes from their boss. But I've been wrong before."

"I'll give Chris a call," said Sam. "He has a gift that helps him get close to people. It might be a good fit." He saw that look on Tommy's face again. "Our friends need to take part in their own rescue—"

"—otherwise they'll always live in fear," Tommy added. "I get you."

"So, where do we stand?" Sam asked.

Tommy gave another long sigh. "Well, we have some new Chinese friends who we may or may not be able to trust."

"Okay."

"We have a new acquaintance in the FBI—that dullard Caldecott-Nevarez—who we may or may not be able to trust.

"Sounds promising."

"We have a new friend in the SecDef of the United States who we may or may not be able to trust."

"Keeps sounding better and better."

"And we have some new friends who once worked with Ulysses Morse—"

"—who we may or may not be able to trust," Sam finished. "Sounds like a winning hand."

A wildly smiling Tommy took a long drink of beer and nodded. "I would feel much, much more comfortable if you were in New York while I was flitting around in Morocco and points beyond," he said.

"Then that's where we will be, me and the girls."

"It's educational, you know. I mean—it ain't Chicago, but New York City has a little charm and culture."

Sam agreed.

"Let me know what your schedule will be, and we'll be there."