had not slept. Her gaze was somewhere else. Three…

““had not slept. Her gaze was somewhere else. Three half-smoked cigarettes lay in the ashtray on her nightstand. A pile of briefs was strewn across his side of the bed. He could tell she was angry, and she had dealt with it the way she always did—throwing herself into her work. Michael undressed silently. “What time is it?” she asked, without looking at him. “Late.” “Why didn’t you call? Why didn’t you tell me you were going to be so late tonight?” “There were developments in the case. I thought you’d be asleep.” “I don’t care if you wake me up, Michael. I needed to hear your voice.” “I’m sorry, Elizabeth. The place was crashing. I couldn’t get away.” “Why didn’t you come to the appointment?” Michael was unbuttoning his shirt. He stopped and turned to look at her. Her face was red, her eyes damp. “Elizabeth, I’m the officer assigned to the terrorist group that may have shot down that jetliner. I can’t walk out in the middle of the day and come to Washington for a doctor’s appointment.” “Why not?” “Because I can’t, that’s why. The President of the United States is making decisions based on what we tell him, and in a situation like this it’s impossible for me to leave the office, even for a couple of hours.” “Michael, I have a job too. It may not be as important as working for the CIA, but it is damned important to me. I’m juggling three cases right now, I’ve got Braxton breathing down my neck, and I’m trying desperately to have a—” Her composure cracked, just for an instant. “I’m sorry, Elizabeth. I wanted to come, but I couldn’t. Not on a day like today. I felt horrible about missing the appointment. What did the doctor say?” She opened her mouth to speak, but no sound came out. Michael crossed the room, sat down beside her on””

— Daniel Silva