Chapter One
In the weeks and months that had passed since Carrie Mathison arrived home from Pakistan, she had become more and more restless. She tried her hardest to focus on her life right there in front of her – the Agency, her sister, her nieces, and Franny. She never could, though, quite let go of the events months earlier. Saul. Quinn. Aayan. Haissam Haqqani. Dar Adal... Aasar Khan. So many thoughts swirled through her mind on a near-constant basis. She was desperate for answers, but thwarted at every turn. She had been reassigned back to Langley, reassigned from the matter of Haqqani, and as always, she had been told to let it go, shut down and denied at every request. Even so, she couldn't stop. It was these same obsessive notions that both broke her and made her in the matter of Nicholas Brody, and maybe, just maybe… she'd catch another break.
The call came one crisp fall afternoon. Franny had just gone down for a nap, and Carrie settled herself in front of her laptop to catch up on some work. The house was quiet; Maggie had taken the girls to soccer practice. It was afternoons like this when she missed her dad the most. An afternoon like this would have been an opportunity for him to settle himself beside her with coffee or a sandwich, ask dozens of questions and ply her with unsolicited, but always appreciated, life advice. What she wouldn't give for one more piece of advice from him; for one more comforting smile or long, tight hug.
As a sad, wistful smile crossed her lips, the ringing of her cell phone shattered the silence of the house. With a furrowed brow, she picked up the device. Unknown number. She slid the 'answer' bar and pressed it to her ear. "Hello?"
"Carrie Mathison?" The voice on the other end sounded familiar, but she couldn't place it.
She hesitated. After a long pause, she finally responded. "Yes. Who is this?"
"It's Dev. Dev Sampat…" Finally, it dawned on her. Dev Sampat had been a contact for her in years at the Secret Intelligence Service. Always one step ahead with technology, and always had great tips, even if not necessarily sanctioned by either agency. He had a lot of friends, it seemed, and always knew something about something.
"Dev? … Hi. It's, uh…"
"It's been a long time, I know. Look, I'm calling because I have some information you might find interesting. Well, a person, anyway. Someone with information on…" Dev hesitated. "Are you alone? Is this call secure? I don't want to speak further if you're at risk."
Squirming in her seat, Carrie's brow furrowed. "Yeah, I'm alone. It's fine. What information do you have?"
"Haissam Haqqani."
Carrie sat up straight, her eyes widening. "Haqqani," she repeated incredulously. "You're—you're sure? What do you know? Dev, tell me!" She took a calming breath and glanced toward the stairs, hoping she hadn't woken Franny.
On the other end, she heard Dev clear his throat. "I don't know anything. Like I said, I have a person. Look, I don't want to say too much. I can set up a meeting and then I'm out. I just… I heard about what happened in Pakistan, and I wanted to help. I'm very sorry, by the way. About all of your losses."
Inhaling sharply, Carrie nodded, swallowing the lump in her throat as she considered what Dev was telling her. Finally, she cleared her throat. "Where and when?" She jotted down the details of the meeting and ended the conversation. For a moment, she sat motionless, staring at the piece of paper in front of her. Finally, the lead she had been waiting for. This was it. Just as she'd gotten a lead in Beirut that led the agency to Brody… this was it. Now, she realized, s he just needed to get herself to London without raising suspicions.
Three days later, Carrie sat at a small table outside a café on a busy London street. She shifted anxiously, tightening the belt of her black trench coat; smoothing her scarf. She looked around, wondering if she had made a mistake; if she had walked into a trap. Fidgeting, she ran her hands through her hair, her breathing becoming increasingly more labored. "Shit," she whispered to herself as she stood to leave, deciding it was, in fact, a trap.
"Carrie?"
Carrie whipped around at the sound of her name. Not only did someone knowing her by name startle her, but also the familiarity of the voice from which it came astounded her. An elderly couple stepped off the curb and out of the way, clearing her line of sight… and she saw him. Just as she remembered, he stood tall and proud, his dark gaze fixed on hers beneath his ever-furrowed brow. With a quick glance around, he made his way toward her, stopping just a few feet away. Her eyes and ears weren't deceiving her… It really was him.