Page 32 of Knight Moves

Slash considered. “Ahab from the Bible or ofMoby Dickfame?”

“My question exactly.Moby Dick, I think. I wasn’t sure until he said the words ‘Ahoy, captain,’ which, to me, indicates that’s the connection.”

“Hmmm. Pope 264 is Saint John Paul II. The 264th pope.”

She hadn’t expected that quick of a response for him. Perhaps she should have. She recalled he had an Italian background, and Italy was a heavily Catholic country. “You’re Catholic?” she asked.

“I am.” He slipped a cross out from beneath his shirt, kissing it before tucking it back under.

She smiled. “Well, that explains that, I suppose. And, yes, we determined it was John Paul II. Unless there’s something else to it I’m not seeing. But what do a captain on a whaling boat and a Catholic pope have in common?” It sounded like a bad joke when she said it out loud, but Slash didn’t smile.

“I don’t know. I’ll give it some thought.”

“Thanks. Given your expertise, I’d appreciate it.” She walked over to the chair next to Slash and sat down. “I have another problem, as well. Isaac has inserted himself deeper into the investigation. He’s a loose cannon. I’d shut him out, but I can’t without asking the director to support me, and I don’t want to do that except as a last resort. He doesn’t need to hear his directors are squabbling. Isaac was there during our last communication and sent a message to Sinclair without my permission. He told Sinclair there were elements in the NSA who considered him a traitor. Isaac is starting to worry me. His dislike for Sinclair seems personal, and I don’t like that.”

“My guess is Isaac has his eyes on the directorship, and if you bring Ethan in, you could be a threat to that.”

She felt her forehead tighten as she acknowledged his words. “That’s not what this is about. What Ethan Sinclair knows, and has, is vital to the security of this nation. Regardless of who is director, the mission of the NSA, and its many fine people, will continue. But I’ll be devastated for this agency if our internal politics cause us to fail in stopping a major terrorist attack. I couldn’t explain that to the president, to my family, or to anyone. We’re better than that. Wehaveto be better than that.”

“We will be.” He rested his elbows on his thighs, the expression on his face thoughtful. “However, that still doesn’t resolve the problem. Ethan doesn’t know who to trust within the agency, which means he thinks there are people on the inside who are not trustworthy.”

“Agreed. He doesn’t know who is on whose side.”

“Neither do we,” Slash replied.

That was the core of the problem. No one on either side knew who was trustworthy in or out of the agency.

“If we’re looking inward, I wonder how the fact that Isaac was Ethan’s boss at the time plays into things,” she mused. “I’ve reviewed Ethan’s file multiple times. Other than the fact that Isaac was Ethan’s supervisor at King’s Security, nothing else has popped.”

“Then there’s something we’re missing. If you’d like, I’m happy to take another look.” He rose, so she did, too.

“I’d like that very much. Thank you for your help. I’ll send the files over to you first thing in the morning.”

He started to leave, but she stopped him. “Slash, there’s something going on inside the NSA. It’s hard to know who to trust. I want you to know I’ve made a decision to trust you with helping me find and safely bring in the Hidden Avenger. I hope that trust is reciprocated.”

He studied her face for a long moment, as if weighing whether she met his criteria for credibility. Finally he nodded. “It is. I’ll let you know if I find anything.”

Chapter Eighteen

ANGEL SINCLAIR

I reported for Psychological Testing and sat stiffly in a chair across from Mrs. Thompson, who had brown hair and a nice smile. I wondered if Thompson was her real name. Probably not, although it didn’t really matter. She gave me a bottle of water, which I drank until it was empty, while she chatted about the weather and the Redskins, apparently attempting to put me at ease.

It wasn’t working.

We were seated at a table that was too big for us. The lighting was dim and there was a dark window across one of the walls, where I assumed whoever was grading my responses would be watching. I was scared, but of what, I wasn’t sure. Regardless, the mere fact that I would be doing this alone and not in front of my classmates was a relief. I put on my best game face, figuring if I were going to be an operative, I needed a better poker face for these kinds of things.

“Angel, I know you’re nervous, but I want you to relax,” she said. “We’re just going to play a game. Okay?” Her calling me by my first name put me a fraction more at ease.

“Okay.”

“Great. I’m going to give you a word, and I want you to tell me the first word that pops into your mind that you associate with it. There are no right or wrong answers. This game just helps us see the way your mind works. But it’s quite important you don’t stop to consider your answer. It must be the first thing that pops into your mind. You need to answer within a one-second time frame. Do you understand?”

“Yes. I’ve done word-association games before.”

“Excellent. Then you’ll be a natural.”

I didn’t share her confidence, but I clasped my hands on the table in front of me and steadied myself.

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