Saving Faith By: David Baldacci

Washington, leaving his lawyers in his liberated, if anxious, wake. The

car was waiting for him. He slid inside. He had been granted bail,

after four weeks of sitting behind bars. Now it was time to get to

work. Now it was damn well time for revenge.

“Have they all been contacted?” Thornhill asked the driver.

The man nodded. “They’re already there. Waiting for you.”

“Buchanan and Adams? Status?”

“Buchanan is in Witness Protection, but we have some leads. Adams is

right out in the open. Available anytime to take out.”

“Lockhart?”

“Dead.”

“You’re certain?”

“We haven’t actually dug up her body, but everything else points to her

having died from her wounds at the hospital in North Carolina.”

Thornhill leaned back against his seat with a sigh. “Lucky her.”

The car entered a public garage, where Thornhill left the vehicle. He

stepped directly into a van waiting there for him, which then pulled

out from the garage and headed in the opposite direction. So much for

any tail the FBI had.

Within forty-five minutes he was at the small abandoned strip mall. He

stepped into the elevator and was zipping several hundred feet down

into the earth. The lower he was carried, the better Thornhill felt.

This thought deeply amused him.

The doors parted and he literally burst out of the confines of the

elevator. The men, his colleagues, were all there. His chair at the

head of the table was empty. His trusty comrade Phil Winslow was in

the seat to the immediate right. Thornhill allowed himself a grateful

smile. Back in business, ready to go.

He sat down, looked around.

“Congratulations on getting bail, Bob,” Winslow said.

“Four weeks later,” Thornhill said bitterly. “I think the Agency needs

to upgrade its legal counsel.”

“Well, that video was very damaging,” said Aaron Royce, the younger man

who had butted heads with Thornhill at the previous meeting here. “I’m

actually surprised you were able to get bail at all. And, quite

frankly, I’m a little stunned that the Agency even saw fit to provide

counsel.”

“Of course it was damaging,” Thornhill said scornfully. “And the

Agency provided counsel because of loyalty. It doesn’t forget its

people. Unfortunately, however, it means I have to disappear. The

lawyers think we have a shot at suppressing the video, but I think all

would agree that, despite having technical legal deficiencies, the

subject matter of the tape was a little too detailed to allow me to

continue in my present capacity.” Thornhill looked saddened for a

moment. His career over, and not in the way he had planned. But then

his features reassumed their usual steeliness; his resolve flooded back

into him like an oil gusher. He looked around the room in triumph.

“But I will lead the battle from a distance. And we will win the war.

Now, I understand Buchanan went underground. But Adams didn’t. We’ll

go the path of least resistance. Adams first. Then Buchanan. I want

someone at the U.S. marshal’s service. We have people there. We

locate good old Danny and make his life disappear. Next, I want to

make damn sure Faith Lockhart is no more.” He looked at Winslow. “Are

my travel documents ready, Phil?”

“Actually, no, Bob,” Winslow said slowly.

Royce stared at Thornhill. “This operation has cost us too much,” he

said. “Three operatives dead. You indicted. The Agency’s turned

upside down. The FBI is all over us. It’s a total and complete

disaster. This makes Aldrich Ames seem like a bounced check.”

Thornhill noticed that every man in the room, Winslow included, was

looking at him with a very unfriendly face. “We will survive this,

make no mistake about that,” Thornhill said in an encouraging tone.

“I’m quite sure we will survive it,” Royce said forcefully.

Royce was definitely beginning to bother Thornhill. He was showing

backbone in a way that had to be quickly quashed. But for now

Thornhill decided to ignore him. “The damn FBI,” complained Thornhill.

“Bugging my house. Is the Constitution not applicable to them?”

“Thank God you didn’t mention my name during the phone call that

night,” Winslow said.

Thornhill looked at him again, struck by the curious tone in his

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