The safe house looked like a perfectly ordinary suburban home in a perfectly ordinary Virginia neighborhood, complete with a white picket fence and flower gardens that suggested normal families living normal lives. What wasn't visible from the street was the sophisticated surveillance equipment, the reinforced walls, or the underground bunker that could survive a direct missile strike.
"Home sweet home," Sterling said with dark humor as we settled Eddie into what appeared to be a cheerfully decorated nursery but was one of the most secure rooms in the Western Hemisphere.
It had been two weeks since we were officially classified as protected witnesses, and we were still adjusting to life under deep government security. Every aspect of our daily routine was coordinated with handlers who sp
