“The diary has the serial numbers,” I said.

The silence returned, heavier this time.

Cole moved his hand toward his jacket, and for a second, I thought he was reaching for a weapon.

Instead, he pulled out a small silver case and took out a cigarette, though he didn’t light it.

“Albright will confiscate that diary the moment you enter the tribunal room tomorrow,” Cole said.

“He’ll classify it under national security guidelines, and it will go into a safe in the basement of the Pentagon.”

“You’ll be pensioned off quietly, and I’ll be reassigned to a liaison post in Brussels.”

“That’s his compromise.”

I looked at the shadow of his face, the hard line of his jaw that I had once found comforting.

“And Vanessa?” I asked.

“She goes with me,” he said simply.

“The Colonel and his trusted aide.”

I felt a cold knot form in my stomach, not of fear, but of absolute certainty.

They had already rehearsed this.

The tribunal tomorrow wasn’t a hearing; it was a formal burial service for the truth.

“I won’t be there tomorrow,” I said.