Saving Faith By: David Baldacci

About the time Fred Massey arrived, Faith was taken to the I.C.U. She

was stabilized for the time being, the doctor told them. The bullet

was one of those vicious dumdums, he said. It had tumbled through her

body like a runaway bowling ball, doing considerable damage to organs,

and the internal hemorrhaging had been severe. She was strong and for

now she was alive. She had a chance, that was all, he cautioned. They

would know more soon.

As the doctor walked away, Reynolds put a hand on Lee’s shoulder and

handed him a fresh cup of coffee.

“Lee, if she survived until now, I have to believe she’s going to make

it.”

“No guarantees,” he mumbled to himself, unable to look at the woman.

They went to the private room, where Reynolds introduced Buchanan and

Lee to Fred Massey.

“I think Mr. Buchanan should start telling you his story,” Reynolds

said to Massey.

“And he’s willing to do that?” Massey asked skeptically.

At this Buchanan perked up. “Something more than willing. But before

I do, tell me one thing. What’s more important to you? What I did, or

arresting the person who killed your agent?”

Massey leaned forward. “I’m not sure I’m prepared to discuss any sort

of deal with you.”

Buchanan put his elbows on the table. “When I tell you my story, you

will be. But I’ll do so on only one condition. You let me deal with

this man. In my own way.”

“Agent Reynolds informed me this person works for the federal

government.”

“That’s right.”

“Well, that’s pretty damn unbelievable. Do you have proof?”

“You let me do this my way, and you’ll have your proof.”

Massey looked over at Reynolds. “The bodies at the house. Do we know

who they are yet?”

She shook her head. “I just checked in. The police and agents from

D.C.” Raleigh and Norfolk are on the scene. But it’s too early yet to

have that info. But everything’s on the QT. The locals have been told

nothing. We’re controlling all flows of information. You won’t see

anything on the news about the bodies or about Faith being alive and in

this hospital.”

Massey nodded. “Good work.” As though suddenly remembering something,

he opened his briefcase, pulled out two objects and handed them to

her.

Reynolds looked down at her pistol and creds.

“I’m sorry any of this happened, Brooke,” Massey said. “I should have

trusted you and I didn’t. Maybe I’ve been out of the field too damn

long. Pushing too many papers and not listening to my instincts

anymore.”

Reynolds holstered her gun and put the creds in her purse. She once

more felt complete. “Maybe I wouldn’t have either, in your position.

But it’s in the past, Fred, let’s move on. We don’t have much time.

“Rest assured, Mr. Massey,” Buchanan said, “you’ll never identify

those men. Or if you do, they’ll have no ties to the person I’m

talking about.”

“How can you be so sure of that?” Massey demanded.

“Trust me, I know how this man operates.”

“Look, why don’t you just tell me who it is and I’ll handle it from

there?”

“No,” Buchanan said firmly.

“What do you mean no? We’re the FBI, mister, we do this for a living.

If you want any sort of deal-”

“You will listen to me.” Buchanan hardly raised his voice, but his

eyes bored into Massey with such overwhelming force that the ADIC lost

his train of thought and fell silent. “We have one chance to bring him

in. One! He’s already infiltrated the FBI. Constantinople may not be

the only mole. There may be others.”

“I highly doubt that-” Massey began.

Now Buchanan raised his voice. “Can you guarantee me that there

aren’t? Can you?”

Massey sat back, looking uncomfortable. He glanced at Reynolds, who

shrugged.

“If they could turn Connie, they could turn anybody,” she said.

Massey looked miserable, shaking his head slowly. “Connie .. . I still

can’t believe it.”

Buchanan tapped the tabletop. “And if there is another spy in your

ranks and you try to trap this man on your own, you will absolutely

fail. And your chance will be gone. Forever. Do you really want to

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