"FBI Agents and Former Lovers Join Forces Once Again to Investigate a DC Assassin"
Reviewed by Min Jung
Posted July 20, 2011
Thriller Crime
The book opens with the assassination of a sitting United
States Supreme Court Justice. And it looks as if whoever
committed the crime was either a careful planner or a killer
who took advantage or chance encounters because Justice
Byron Reinbeck was killed as he stopped to buy flowers for
his wife on his way home from working late. FBI agent Jaid Marlowe gets assigned to the case, as does
her former colleague and ex-lover Adam Raiker. Soon enough,
an Iranian diplomat is the next one on the assassin's hit
list, and a priest soon follows. The thing that links each
of these cases is a note left in a baggie consisting of one
word - one of the seven deadly sins, unique to each of the
victims. Clearly, the assassin has decided that each of her
or his victims is guilty and has cast her/himself in the
role of judge and executioner. Jaid and Adam have to put aside their personal feelings and
find a way to work together, despite Jaid's boss wanting to
report on Adam's every move. And have she and Adam truly
moved on from their feelings about each other? Meanwhile, Adam is dealing with issues of his own, as he is
dealing with someone who apparently wants him dead, as well.
Is it the same assassin, or someone related to the
assassin? And what is the mystery Jaid is hiding associated
with her son that she clearly doesn't want Adam to find out? While this book was full of suspense, it would have been
even more so, had the jacket copy not given away a major
spoiler. The characters of Jaid and Adam were very well
written, and it is clear that they have plenty of chemistry.
Some of the other characters seemed to be a bit
predictable, but the priest was extremely interesting. The
ending was satisfying without being predictable. Overall,
this was a compelling thriller that kept me reading far too
long into the night.
SUMMARY
An unknown assassin has appointed himself judge, jury, and
executioner, brutally taking out high-level human targets
citywide. It's just the kind of case that will test the
resolve of a tough FBI agent like Jaid Marlowe. Especially
when her new partner is Adam Raiker, Jaid's former
colleague-and ex-lover.
ExcerptChapter 1
Despite what it said in the Old Testament, death was
rarely the result of divine intervention. Often nature
could be blamed. More frequently another person was the
cause. On that drizzly gray evening in early November,
nature had an alibi.
If Supreme Court Justice Byron Reinbeck had known what
fate had in store for him that day, he’d have spent less
time writing the scathing dissenting opinion on Clayborne
vs. Leland. Which in turn would have had him leaving his
chambers at a decent hour. That would have negated the need
to stop at his favorite sidewalk vendor for flowers to take
to Mary Jo, his wife of twenty-five years. She was having a
dinner party that evening and he was running unforgivably
late.
But not being blessed with psychic powers, he pulled
over at the sidewalk in question. Danny was there, rain or
shine, until the snow started flying. And he never folded
up shop until he’d sold his entire inventory.
“Mr. Reinbeck, good to see you.” A smile put another
crease in Danny’s grizzled well-worn face. A three-sided
awning protected him and his wares. A small propane heater
was tucked in the corner of it. “When you called I put ’em
back special. I got just the thing.” He sprang up from his
battered lawn chair with a surprising spryness.
Byron turned up the collar of his overcoat, belatedly
remembered the umbrella in the backseat. Hunching his
shoulders a bit, he pretended to contemplate the bouquet of
yellow roses thrust out for his approval. He suspected
Jimmy stocked them daily, on the off chance that he’d stop.
Yellow roses were Mary Jo’s favorite.
He reached for his wallet. “You’re a life-saver, Danny.”
The older man’s cackle sounded over the crinkle of the
wrapping paper he was fixing around the bundle. “You gots
to be in big trouble for these flowers not to do the trick.”
A quick glance at his watch told Byron that he was only
a handful of minutes away from ‘big trouble’. He withdrew a
couple bills, intending to leave without waiting for change.
He didn’t have a chance to turn around when the
sharp ‘crack’ of the rifle sounded behind him. But he saw
the splash of crimson on the front of Danny’s stained brown
hoodie. A second later pain and shock paralyzed his system
before he pitched forward, his lifeless body crushing the
fragrant long stemmed beauties against the makeshift
plywood table.
Adam Raiker rapped softly at the door of the library.
Although there were three occupants in the room, only one
voice bade him to enter.
Because it was the only one that counted, he eased the
door open, his gaze going immediately to Mary Jo Waverly-
Reinbeck. “Everyone’s gone.”
Even grief stricken as she was, there was no mistaking
the command of the woman. The red sheathe she wore
accentuated her pale blond hair and ice blue eyes. She was
brilliant and witty and had been known to dismantle a
seasoned defense attorney with a few well-chosen lines. But
it was her devotion to one of Adam’s closest friends that
had endeared her to him.
Tears still running freely down her face, she held out a
hand to him. “Thank you, Adam.” He went to her, aware of
the impatience emanating from the other two in the room. He
took her hand in his and at her urging, sank into the seat
beside her.
FBI Deputy Director Garrett Schulte leaned back in his
chair and offered Adam a polite smile. But there was no
pretense of civility from the other man. Curtis Morgan
served in Homeland Security in some capacity, Adam
recalled. Given his presence here, it was a position of
some import. Regardless, it was Byron Reinbeck’s widow who
held his focus.
“Gentlemen.” She took a moment to wipe at her face with
a tissue. “I’m sure you both know Adam Raiker, by
reputation if not personally. Adam is a dear family
friend.” When her voice broke, she paused to compose
it. “I’d like a few moments with him now. We can resume our
discussion in fifteen minutes. If you’d excuse us?”
Schulte and Morgan exchanged a startled glance but the
deputy director recovered first. “Of course.” When he rose,
the other man followed suit. “Is there anything we can get
for you?”
“I’d like a copy of the investigative report updated
daily and delivered to me.” Even under the circumstances it
was difficult for Adam to suppress a smile at the men’s
uniform reactions to Jo’s crisply worded request. “Perhaps
you can discuss the details involved for making that
happen.”
Without another word, the men moved to the open door.
Through it. And when it shut behind them, Adam knew the
woman had successfully distracted the two from his presence
here. They were going to be kept busy employing a duck and
dodge strategy that would allow the investigation to
continue in confidence while still placating the widow of
one of the most powerful men in the country. Their focus on
her connection to Byron Reinbeck also meant they’d
underestimate the fact that Jo Waverly-Reinbeck was a
brilliant assistant U.S. attorney in her own right.
If the situation were different he might feel a bit
sorry for them.
“Thank you.” She squeezed his hand and sent him a watery
smile. “For making the necessary calls. For getting the
people out of here…God. I just couldn’t deal with that.”
“What about the kids?” he asked quietly. The couple had
two sons, both blond like Jo, both in their teens. So far
they were being shielded from the news of their father’s
death.
“They’re with my parents. They’ll keep the boys away
from the TV until I can go and tell them in person.” Her
chin quavered once, before she firmed it. “We discussed
this. Byron and me. Given our professions, I always thought
I’d be the likelier target. God knows I’ve had plenty of
threats. Remember the Calentro drug cartel trial last year?
Somehow the USMS managed to keep me safe through that but
Byron hasn’t had a serious threat in years. And still…”
Because there were no words, Adam released her hand to
slip an arm around her shoulders. The passing minutes
filled with her soft weeping caused a growing desolation
inside him. Helplessness. There was nothing he hated worse.
Moments later, she drew away, mopped her face. And he
recognized the determined expression she wore. “You’ve told
us often enough over the last couple months, but are you
truly okay? Completely recovered?”
The non sequitur had him blinking. “The bullets caught
me in the one area of the chest that wasn’t already
scarred. I’m still a bit miffed about that, but otherwise
I’m fine.”
Her gaze was intent. “Who will have jurisdiction on
this? The bureau?”
“DCPD will have been first to the scene. Marshals will
have sent backup. Then you have the FBI and Homeland
Security, just for starters. It’ll depend on what’s
discovered at the crime scene. At the location of—”
“—the shooter,” she continued for him. Her tears had
stemmed, as if she’d successfully willed them away. “With
Byron a sitting justice, we’re likely to have every
alphabet agency coming out of the woodwork trying to get a
piece of this.” Her smile was fierce. “I’ve read the
Justice reports. Regardless of 9/11, the agencies still
haven’t learned to share intelligence. I don’t want Bryon
getting lost in a bureaucratic pissing match.”
He couldn’t refute her logic. Although he’d left the FBI
years ago, Adam had been an agent long enough to recognize
the potential pitfalls of the upcoming investigation. “What
are you proposing?”
“They won’t keep me in the loop of the investigation.”
She waved away any response he might have made. “I know
they can’t. That’s not my forte anyway.” Her pause then was
laden with expectancy. “But it is yours. And that of your
agency.”
With certain regret he answered, “As good as we are at
Raiker Forensics, there’s zero chance that the feds would
invite us to consult on a case of this magnitude. They’d
see it as a duplication of services, for one. And my
relationship to Byron would be considered a conflict of
interest.” Although given the man’s far-reaching career
thus far, he was likely personally acquainted with several
top officials in both the FBI and DHS.
“Perhaps under ordinary circumstances.” A small sound
was heard in the hallway. Jo lowered her voice as she
reached out to grip his hand. “I have a few hours to trade
on the expressions of sympathy that will be coming my way.
Having the sitting U.S. Attorney General as a former boss
is about to come in handy. And I fully expect the White
House to call soon. President Jolson is responsible for
Byron’s seat on the Supreme Court. I think he’ll grant his
widow this one favor.”
Shock flickered. “Jo, if you accomplish that, I’d be
working with the task force put together for this case. And
given its sensitivity, I couldn’t—”
“—report directly to me? I know.” She leaned forward,
her expression urgent. “But I trust you. Byron trusted you.
And if you’re on this case I won’t worry because I know
you’ll cut through all the bureaucratic bullshit to get the
answers.” Her voice grew thick with tears again, although
there were none in her eyes. They gleamed with purpose. “I
want my husband’s killer. And if things get messy, I want
the real facts, not the sanitized version or whatever the
feds deem publicly palatable.” Her grasp on his hand
tightened. “Before I beg my former employer and the
President for a favor, Adam, I’m requesting one from you.”
I’ve never asked you for anything, Adam. I’m asking now.
There was no reason for Jo’s words to have memory
ambushing him. To evoke the image of another time years
earlier, from another woman with similar entreaty in her
eyes. In her voice. Turning away from that woman had been
the right thing to do. He still believed it.
And still lived with the searing regret that lingered.
He looked down at their clasped fingers. Her pale smooth
skin contrasted sharply with the furrowed scars
crisscrossing the back of his hand. Some decisions, made
for the best of reasons, left haunting remorse in their
wake. This one didn’t even require a second thought.
“I’ll do everything I can.”
“The prudent thing to do—for all concerned—is to bow out
gracefully.” FBI Assistant Director Cleve Hedgelin looked
at a point beyond Adam’s shoulder as he parroted the
suggestion, which had no doubt stemmed from a loftier
position in the agency’s hierarchy. But it was equally
likely that Cleve shared the sentiment. He might have been
Adam’s partner eight years ago, but he’d stayed on at the
bureau. Had risen in its ranks in the Criminal
Investigative Division. An agent didn’t do that without
learning to toe the political line.
And after the spectacular ending of the last case they’d
worked together, Cleve likely harbored his own reasons for
keeping his distance from Adam. “There’s nothing that you
can add to the case, and your involvement is a needless
distraction.”
The office was outfitted more grandly than the cubicle
Adam had been assigned when he’d worked in the Hoover
building. He settled more comfortably into the plush
armchair and sent the man a bland smile. “Stop wasting
time. Attorney General Gibbons has already approved my full
inclusion on this investigation. The president himself
assured Jo Reinbeck that her wishes in this matter would be
heeded. The agency’s objections to my presence are expected
and duly noted. Let’s move on, shall we?”
An unwilling smile pulled at the corners of Hedgelin’s
mouth. “Same ol’ Adam. You never were much for small talk.”
“Is that what that was?” When his thigh began to cramp,
he shifted position to stretch his leg out. “And here I
thought it was the usual bureaucratic BS. The bureau’s been
painted into a corner with Gibbons and Jolson weighing in
but still thought it was worth a shot to appeal to my more
tender sensibilities.”
“You never had many.”
“And I haven’t developed any in the time since I left.
Tell your superiors you gave it the college try and I’m not
budging. So.” His hands clenched and unclenched on the knob
of his cane, an outward sign of his flagging
patience. “Catch me up.”
Cleve smoothed a hand over his short hair. It was more
gray than brown now, but his pale brown eyes were covered
by the same style gold wire framed glasses he’d favored
eight years ago. His build was still slim, but the
intervening years had left their stamp on the man’s face.
Adam didn’t want to consider what showed on his own.
“We’ve got more agencies than we can handle jockeying
for position in this investigation.”
“I imagine that kind of juggling comes with the job.”
The assistant director grimaced. “You have no idea. But
in this case it means doling out pieces of the case to
teams comprised of agents, and members from DHS, USMS, DCPD…
and now you.”
“Nice to know I’m not crowding the field.” Adam wasn’t
without sympathy for the man’s position. But the emotion
didn’t run deeply enough to have him bowing out and making
it easier for Hedgelin or the bureau. He’d made a promise
to Jo. She’d done her part. She’d gotten him placed on the
investigation. He had no allusions; it would have been her
connections—and Byron’s—that had landed him here. Despite
his past in the agency—or perhaps because of it—his
presence would make them uneasy. His last case for the FBI
had ended dramatically—and nearly killed him. Although he
didn’t care about such things, to some it had made him a
hero. But because he’d chosen to cut his ties with his
former job, the bureau might regard him much differently.
That part didn’t matter. The investigation did.
“You’ll be partnered with two of our seasoned agents. I
believe you know both from your time here. And Lieutenant
Frank Griega will be your liaison from the DCPD.” Hedgelin
dropped into his high-backed leather desk chair and shot
Adam a small smile. “Given that our best guys in the
Behavioral Analysis Unit were actually instructed by you,
we’d be interested in any profile of the offender you put
together.”
Adam inclined his head. Since he hadn’t made a point to
keep up with many from the bureau once he’d left it, he had
no idea who was still left in the BAU. But Cleve was right.
Profiling had been a specialty of his while he’d been an
agent. Now it was his employees at Raiker Forensics who
received his tutelage. “Of course.” His pause was
meaningful. “But it’d help to get some background on the
case first.”
The agent leaned forward and stabbed at a button on his
desk phone with the stump that remained of his right index
finger. Adam wasn’t the only one who bore old injuries from
the last case they’d worked. He rarely considered his own.
When it came to human nature, it was only the scars on the
inside that were worth noting.
Moments later the door to the office opened and a man
and woman entered. With a glance, Adam determined that
Cleve was right. He did know the agents. His gut clenched
tightly once before he shoved the response aside by sheer
force of will. He’d had recent dealings with Special Agent
Tom Shepherd, as well as knowing him slightly when they’d
both been with the bureau.
But his reaction had nothing to do with Shepherd.
“You recall Special Agents Shepherd and Marlowe?”
“Of course.” He gave them a curt nod.
Shepherd’s broad smile complemented his aging Hollywood
golden boy looks. “You’re looking a sight better than you
did a few months ago in the Philly CCU. I heard that the
doctors took to calling you the miracle man.”
Her voice and face devoid of expression, Jaid Marlowe
raised a brow at him. “Just a word of advice, you aren’t
actually bulletproof. Next time you have an assassin after
you, try Kevlar.”
“Now that I’ve discovered bullets don’t bounce off me, I
may have to.” His tone was as mild as hers. No one would
suspect that only a few short months ago Jaid had sat at
his bedside clutching his hand, silent and pale, her wide
brown eyes drenched in tears. In a medicated fog at the
time, he might have thought she was an image produced by
his subconscious. She’d taken up permanent residence there
eight years ago, like a determined ghost refusing to be
banished.
Cleve stood, taking three oversized brown folders from a
pile on his desk and leaning across the desk to pass them
out. Flipping his open, Adam saw it contained copies of the
case file. Regardless of the minutes wasted trying to
convince him to bow out, a file had already been prepared
for him just in case.
The thought vanished when he focused on the pictures
contained in the first manila folder inside. There was a
clutch in his chest when he recognized his friend crumpled
on top of the stained, broken plywood, bright yellow roses
crushed beneath him. The depth of emotion blindsided him.
He took a moment to acknowledge the feeling before tucking
it away. Subjectivity crippled an investigator. Turning
those feelings into purpose was the only way to help Byron
Reinbeck.
“Any word from ballistics?”
Hedgelin nodded. “The kill weapon was a .308 Remington
Model 700. Full metal jackets, which explains Shelton being
killed with the same bullet. Passed through the justice and
into him.”
Riffling through the pictures, Adam plucked out a few to
arrange on his lap atop the open folder, side by side.
After studying them for a moment he looked up. “The shooter
was in the parking garage across the street?” At Hedgelin’s
nod his gaze lowered again. “Second level, most likely.
Easiest thing to do would be to back a van into a slot
facing the street. Open the rear doors, take the shot and
then drive away.”
“Second level, southeast corner,” Cleve
affirmed. “Second level, southeast corner. The other folder
has the scene photos.” There was a note in the man’s voice
that alerted Adam. He shuffled through the pictures in the
next folder. There was little to see in the images. No
evidence of a rifle or scope. No tripod or shell casings.
The shooter had coolly taken the time to pick up before
fleeing the scene. There was nothing except…he squinted his
one good eye at a photo of what looked like an ordinary
five by eight white index card encased in a plastic Ziploc.
On it was scrawled one word in what looked to be red marker.
Wrath.
As if reading his thoughts, Jaid said, “Wrath? The
shooter was angry at the victim?”
Riffling through the rest of the photos in that file, he
stopped at one that showed the card before it’d been
disturbed. “Oh, he wanted this to be found, didn’t he?”
Adam murmured. He’d first thought the bag protecting the
card was an evidence bag used by the crime scene
technicians, but now he realized the shooter had left it
that way. Encased in plastic, with a fist-sized piece of
broken concrete holding it in place on the pebbled flat
roof of the building. “Wrath. One of the seven deadly
sins.” Feeling the others’ eyes on him he looked up. “Not
that I’m all that well-versed in the tenets of Catholicism
but I had some exposure in my youth.”
“A passing exposure, obviously.” Jaid’s wry remark had
the corner of Adam’s mouth quirking.
“It didn’t take, no. Much to the Franciscans’ despair.”
“As it happens I am a devout Catholic, so I had the same
thought.” Hedgelin took a large manila envelope off his
desk and opened it to shake out a single photo. Bracing
himself with one fist planted on the desk, he leaned
forward, holding the image up for them to see.
“That’s not Reinbeck,” Shepherd noted, shifting to
better view what was obviously a crime scene photo.
“This victim’s name was Oliver Patterson.” The deputy
director paused but when no one commented he went on. “He
had a global investment and securities firm. Patterson
Capital.”
“One of the too big to fail companies that plundered
unfettered until the financial collapse a few years ago.”
Recognition was filtering now, of the victim’s name and his
company. Both had been on the receiving end of some
unbelievably bad press after the upheaval, worsened further
when its top executives’ obscene bonuses came to light.
Adam assumed Patterson had ridden out the rocky times with
help from the government issued bailout funds. He recalled
the news stories surrounding the man’s death had been
lacking in details. “When was he killed, last week?”
“Nine days ago in the parking garage of his building on
I Street, Northwest.
Stabbed. You can’t tell in this picture but there was an
identical card left at the scene.” Cleve’s expression
turned grim. “It was impaled on the knife left in his
heart.”
Intrigue spiking, Adam guessed, “Avarice.”
The deputy director nodded. “Close enough. The
word ‘greed’ was written on the card, in red marker, much
like the one found at the site of Reinbeck’s shooter.
Another biggie according to church dogma. The DCPD is
compiling copies of the complete report on that ongoing
investigation. Griega will get it to us when it’s ready.”
“You think these two are serial killings?”
Hedgelin raised his hand as if to halt Jaid’s line of
thought. “Let’s not get ahead of ourselves. DCPD tells me
that the detail about the card got leaked three days ago.
Wasn’t picked up by all the media outlets, but it was out
there. No way to tell if we’ve got a copycat or if the same
person killed both men. The manner of deaths was completely
different. We’re a ways from tying the two homicides
together, at this point.”
“But the religious connotation of the notes give us a
link worth following up on.”
The deputy director didn’t reply to Shepherd’s
observation. Instead, he took off his glasses to polish
them with his handkerchief, a habit Adam recalled from
their time partnered together. “We’re in the midst of
having all the evidence from the Patterson homicide
transferred to Quantico, where it will be given top
priority. If there’s a link to be found, we’ll soon know
about it. We still have a large group of DCPD officers
canvassing the area surrounding last night’s shooting.”
Despite his cautionary note regarding a serial killer at
work, it was obvious the bureau was looking closely into a
connection between the cases. They had to. “What about the
threats the justice received? Depending on how many clients
took a bath in the financial collapse, Patterson probably
had more than his share of enemies, too.”
Adam’s comment elicited a nod from Hedgelin. “Since it’s
the USMS Judicial Security Division’s duty to anticipate
and deter threats to the judiciary,” his voice was heavy
with irony, “they have a thorough file on any targeting
Reinbeck. It’ll take some time to compare them to those
received by Patterson. You won’t be involved in that end of
things. Right now you’re headed over to the Supreme Court
building to help with the interviews there. It’s the JSD’s
turf, so play nice. With over three hundred permanent staff
members alone, it’s going to be a daunting task. You’ll be
part of the contingent focusing on the staff that worked
most closely with the justices. There are close to forty
clerks, four fellows, administrative assistants and God
knows who else in there with direct access to the
judiciary. Your first focus will be on Reinbeck’s clerks
and his administrative assistant.”
His attention shifted to Shepherd. “Take Raiker to
security and pick up a temporary ID badge for him.” His
smile was thin as he included Adam in his glance. “They’ll
need to take a picture for it. Shouldn’t take longer than
fifteen minutes or so.”
Barely restraining a grimace, Adam rose. Photos were a
necessary evil at times, but one he avoided at all costs
whenever possible. It clearly wasn’t going to be possible
this time around. And the realization already had him
feeling surly.
When the agents rose, Hedgelin looked at Jaid. “Agent
Marlowe, if you’d stay for a minute?”
The order couched in the request had Adam’s instincts
rising, but he didn’t look at her as he and Shepherd headed
to the door.
He’d been given a reprieve.
He had the next ten or fifteen minutes to figure the
best way to handle working with the woman who represented
the biggest regret of his life.
Since she wasn’t invited to sit again Jaid remained
standing, her eyes fixed on the Executive Assistant
Director. The pseudo-civility that had permeated his voice
for the earlier briefing had vanished. The gaze he regarded
her with was hard. “I had an opportunity to speak to
Shepherd earlier. I’m going to tell you the same thing I
told him. I want Raiker supervised at all times. He doesn’t
conduct interviews alone. He doesn’t follow up on any leads
without one of you accompanying him. The bureau may have
had its arm twisted into including him on this case, but
damned if we’re going to sit still and allow him to turn
this thing into another chapter for his sensationalized
memoirs.”
There was absolutely no reason for his tone, his words,
to have her hackles rising. Feigning puzzlement, she
asked, “He’s writing his memoirs?”
Hedgelin sent her a sharp look but she knew her
expression was blank. She didn’t wear her emotions on her
face any more. Adam Raiker had begun that lesson, all those
years ago. Life had completed it.
“I’m certain you know what I mean. You’re to keep him
firmly contained within the investigative parameters you’re
given. In addition to the report you or Shepherd file
online nightly, I want details on Raiker’s behavior. His
thoughts about the case. Who he talks to. Anything he says
of interest.”
In short, she was to spy on him. Just the thought filled
her with distaste. She’d run her share of surveillance ops
in her career, but informing on another member of her team
was especially abhorrent. Especially since she suspected
his most grievous crime was his mere presence in this
investigation. The petty politics involved in the agency
was her least favorite aspect of the job.
But she knew how to play the game. Or at least how to
appear to. “Understood.”
He stared hard at her, long enough to have to her flesh
prickling. “I’m told you knew him when he was with the
agency.”
“I took a class he taught for the BAU.” The words were
delivered in a bland voice. And didn’t reflect the sudden
weakness in her knees. “Worked a couple cases with him
after that.”
Hedgelin gave a nod, as if satisfied. “It’s to our
advantage that you and Shepherd are on a friendly footing
with him. That should keep him off guard. Just be sure you
don’t let that friendship interfere with your duties
regarding him.”
“It was a long time ago.”
He picked up a folder on his desk and opened it, clearly
dismissing her. “Join them in security.”
Without another word Jaid turned for the door. She’d
seen Adam twice in the last eight years. Each of those
times he’d been in CCU, clinging to life. It had taken a
wealth of strength to accept this assignment, realizing it
would place her at his side for days, possibly weeks on
end. She’d convinced herself that she could handle it.
Could handle him.
But it had never occurred to her that she might be
called on to betray him.
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