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He saw the fire in my eyes and for a moment he glanced away.

“Where am I?” I said.

“You’re in New York City. I will be your liaison.”

“What do you mean, liaison?”

“You’re being released.” He flinched a smile at me.

I didn’t believe it. It must be a trick. I made myself breathe. “You found my wife?”

“No.”

“Then why…”

“Your innocence has been established.” Now Howell’s voice stiffened, and the words felt a shade rehearsed. “We regret the inconvenience.”

I could neither laugh nor howl at the four small words, their pitiful sentiment, their complete inadequacy to the hell I had endured. When I found my voice, it sounded cracked. “Established how?”

“It doesn’t matter, Sam. We know you’re innocent.”

I closed my eyes. “Then you’re lying to me. You must have found Lucy.”

“No,” he said. “I swear to you, we do not know where she is.”

The silence between us, broken by the comic’s rantings in the background. I reached for the remote and my fingers fumbled for a grip. Howell picked it up and turned off the television.

“I don’t believe you now.”

“This is no trick, Sam,” Howell said. “We know you’re innocent. Just be grateful for your freedom.”

Grateful. Freedom. The words sanded against each other in my brain. “You people tortured me. You held me prisoner, without a lawyer, without cause.”

“It didn’t happen, Sam.” Slowly, Howell unbuckled the straps binding my legs to the bed. He moved with caution, like he was removing the top of a basket holding a cobra. He looked up to catch my stare and swallowed, as though realizing he should not show fear. “You will be integrated back into civilian life, Sam. Think of me as a parole officer.”

“Innocent people aren’t on parole.”

“The Company asked me to serve in this role. I’m the only one who believed you, do you remember? I said I thought you were innocent. I was your only advocate, Sam.”

“You were a piss-poor one.”

Howell gave a long, low sigh and sat on the side of the bed. “I told the directors I thought you were telling the truth. Finally they believed me when…”

“When what?” I leaned forward.

“I can’t discuss it.”

“You owe me.”

“No, we don’t owe you a thing,” Howell said. “You were too blind to see what was in front of you.”

“You know Lucy is guilty? Tell me.” Oh, God, confirmation of the impossible, that my wife was a traitor.

“Do you want your freedom back, Sam?”

“Yes.”

“Then shut up. Swallow down every question and don’t ask me about Lucy.” He cleared his throat. “We need to talk about your immediate future, though.”

I sat up slowly. “My future is I’m going to find my wife. And my child.”

“You are not. She remains a national security matter. As do you. You will do as you’re told.”

And I would, until I did what I wanted. I could play the game. I swallowed my questions. “My parents—”

“Your parents think you want nothing to do with them, Sam. Let’s keep it that way.”

I was silent. This was my shame. Normal people had normal relations with their parents. Mine weren’t quite normal, at least where I was concerned.

“Of course your parents were thoroughly investigated. They are a bit… unconventional.”

“Stay away from them.”

“Oh, that would be a loss for me. I find them charming; we like to sit in the garden and drink tea. I’ve visited with them several times. Special Projects Branch at the Company bought the house next to theirs in New Orleans; I’m their manufacturing-representative neighbor who travels a great deal. We’ve had their house bugged for months, tapped their phones, watched them. Just in case their pregnant daughter-in-law contacted them or they attempted to make inquiries about you. But only silence. Since they didn’t hear from you at Christmas, they are a bit worried that the gulf between you cannot be bridged.” He shrugged. “Don’t take it hard. We sometimes don’t like the people we love.” He told me this like he was handing me a gift.

“My parents—just leave them alone.”

“Then do as I say and the surveillance, the investigation of them, will end.” He raised his hands, palms toward me. “I don’t want to involve your parents. They’re fine people, Sam.”

I was being bribed. Fine. I would protect my parents. “Deal.” I cleared my throat.

“It’s your lucky day. You were never technically fired. You are still under Company command. You have been assigned to my group. I am your boss.”

I wanted to say I resign, but: “Then let me help you look for her.”

Howell raised an eyebrow. “Do you really want your job with us, Sam?”

“Yes.” It was the first rational lie I’d told in months. I didn’t count any lies I had screamed during the waterboarding. Apparently none of my false information worked out for the Company.

“Then here are your orders. You stay put here in New York. There is an account at a bank that has been opened in your name, with a sizeable initial deposit. Enough to live on, although I suggest you find work. If only to keep your mind and hands occupied.”

“Work. But you said—”

“You remain on our payroll. But your clearances are gone, Sam. So find a job to keep you busy. One that requires no travel and is not demanding.”

“I can’t sit still. Not with my family in trouble.”

Howell rode right over that speed bump. “You want to help find Lucy? Then do what you’re told. Sit tight. Get a job. A simple one.”

“I’ve only ever worked for the Company. I started straight out of college.”

“You tended bar in college, though. Pour beers, mix martinis. The jobs are easy to find.” He shrugged. As though all my training, all my field experience in Company work meant nothing.

I steadied my voice. I was caught between rage and knowing that if I throttled Howell I’d be back in the cell. Slowly, unbound now, I got off the bed. Howell steadied me. I felt woozy from the drugs, from inactivity. “I cannot put this more plainly. I am going to find my wife. My child.”

“You are going to follow orders, or you will regret it, Mr. Capra.”

“You can’t keep me—”

“If you break parole you will be back in prison, facing charges ranging from money laundering to treason. Any proof of your innocence will be eliminated and you will be prosecuted.” It was a nasty bit of leverage. Anger colored his voice and I shut up so I could hear the deal.

The rest of my life hinged on what he offered.

“You hunker down, you don’t let yourself get bored, and you don’t go to the press, you don’t go to your friends in the Company—not that you have any left. Not everyone knows that your name has been cleared. You let us look for Lucy and you don’t get in our way.”

“So what am I now? Worthless?”

For the first time I saw in that horrible flinch in his eyes what I had never seen in the past months: pity. “How are you worth anything to us, Sam? You either knew she was a traitor, and did nothing, which makes you pure evil in the Company’s eyes; or you didn’t know she was a traitor. And that makes you a pure fool.”

I looked at him and then I looked at the spotless tile floor. We were back to his original question to me. After all my pain.

“You’ll recuperate here, gain your strength before we send you out into the world. You lost a bit too much weight,” Howell said. “Let’s go see what clothes we have to fit you. Then I’ll take you downstairs.” He got up and opened the cold beer for me. He handed me the icy bottle. “We’ve made all your favorites. Spicy corn soup, salad with blue cheese, roast beef with horseradish, mashed potatoes, asparagus, key lime pie, coffee. Doesn’t that dinner sound good?”