“Yeah, well likewise, I can think of all kinds of reasons a guy might want to get up and go home after he was done fucking you. But that’s not the point. The point is, most people who come to a hotel to have sex prefer to do it in the same bed. What you did was a mistake. Mistakes like that get you noticed. Getting noticed gets you killed.”
Paula took a deep breath as though to answer, but stopped when the doors opened. There was no way anyone could have anticipated them here, but out of habit, Ben swept the area with his eyes before moving out of the elevator. They walked down the corridor and Ben let them into the room.
As soon as he had double-locked the door, Paula said, “And you’re lecturing me about getting noticed? The first thing you did in Taibbi’s bar was practically castrate his bouncer. And then every chance you got to get in Taibbi’s face, too, you did. Yeah, that’s you, Mr. Invisible.”
Ben walked past her into the room. Marble bathroom on the right. King bed in the room past it; dresser, flat-screen television, desk on the left. He glanced out the window at two massive, kidney-shaped pools in the courtyard below, then pulled shut the curtains and turned to her. “We’ve been over this already. When I need to be direct, I’m direct. When I need to be invisible, I’m invisible. If you don’t know the difference, you’re a goddamned amateur.”
Her lips were pressed tightly together and she was breathing so hard her nostrils were flaring. Ben realized he needed to back off. Not that what he was saying wasn’t true, but true didn’t mean it was helpful.
“Look, you’re smart in a lot of ways, I can see that. And you’ve got good instincts, you know how to play a role. But you need to use your head, too. Why can’t you be smart enough to see this isn’t your ordinary investigation? That right now you’re operating outside the world you’re accustomed to? Did you not hear Taibbi when he was talking about what happened to his men? When was the last time you were investigating someone who could ghost up behind you, sever your carotid, and walk away from the arterial spray before your body even hits the floor? I’ll tell you when the last time was. Never. Otherwise you’d be dead. And Larison is only half of it. We don’t even know who else is after him, or whether they might take an interest in us, too. Do you get it? You’re smart and you’re good at what you do, but right now you are out of your league and if you want to stay alive, you need to listen to me when I talk to you.”
“You are so condescending, it makes me want to wipe the smugness right off your face.”
“Is that how you break the cycle of violence?”
She closed her eyes and let out a long breath. “I hate that I’ve let you make me this angry. You’re not worth it.”
He knew he shouldn’t respond, but he couldn’t help it. “If I’m not worth it, why are you angry?”
She opened her eyes. “Exactly. I’m going to take a bath. Do you need the bathroom first?”
“Yeah, actually, I do.”
“Fine. And when you’re out? I do expect you to sleep on the floor.”
“With pleasure,” he said, walking past her.
He closed the door, took a leak, and furiously brushed his teeth with the toothbrush and toothpaste the hotel had provided. If she had a problem using the same toothbrush, she could just go without, he didn’t give a shit.
She’d been stupid in the lobby. But…
What was the point of unloading on her like that? He could have just pointed out her error. She wasn’t thick, she would have gotten it.
Was he trying to get back at her for some of the things she’d said in the van on the way from Jacó? That crap about how he took things personally, that the job alone couldn’t justify the way he piled on… it had stung. Which, of course, meant there was probably something to it.
And wasn’t the thing she’d criticized him for exactly what he’d just done to her? If his goal was to explain operational behavior, he could have just explained it. What did insulting her have to do with that?
And if explaining hadn’t been the point, what was?
You wanted to hurt her. Because she hurt you. She challenged you, so you had to put her in her place.
Was that really it? Because, when he put it like that, it sounded so pathetic.
He spat and rinsed his mouth, then looked at himself in the mirror. He wondered if anyone ever looked in the mirror and saw an angry, thin-skinned, petty reflection staring back.
Probably not.
Well, maybe this was part of what Hort had been telling him about. Getting greater self-control. Because how could you have greater self-control if you didn’t have greater self-awareness?
All right, fine. But what if you wound up not liking the self you were becoming aware of?
He didn’t want to think about that.
He washed his hands, soaked a washcloth, and wiped his face and eyes. That sense of unseen forces, and now all this thinking about his own behavior and what might lie behind it… he didn’t like it. He thought maybe it was better before, when he just did what he was told and acted the way he wanted and fuck anyone who had a problem with it. It had all been working out pretty well, hadn’t it?
Sure. And your daughter thinks you’re dead.
“Come on,” he said, out loud. “It was supposed to be a rhetorical question.”
He chuckled, but without much mirth. Now he was talking to himself. He’d think a question, and a voice in his head was actually answering. And then he’d responded to the voice. What was he going to do, start having conversations with himself?
He needed a vacation. He needed something. That shit with Obsidian, and then the Manila city jail… he was just stressed out, that was all. Who wouldn’t be?
You wouldn’t be. Not before.
“Will you knock that shit off?” he said, out loud again.
He opened the door and walked wordlessly past Paula. “Everything all right in there?” she said.
“Yeah, what do you mean?”
“Sounded like you were talking to someone.”
“I don’t…” He shook his head and laughed. “I was being an asshole a few minutes ago. I’m sorry.”
She looked at him, and he had no idea what she was thinking. After a moment, she said, “Forget about it,” and then went into the bathroom.
When he heard the bath water running, he called Hort and briefed him on everything that had happened. He assumed she was doing something similar on her end, but there wasn’t much he could do about it.
“Nico, huh?” Hort said.
“Yeah, Nico. What do you think that’s all about?”
Hort laughed. “You mean could a hard-ass operator like Larison also be a swish?”
Ben felt a little embarrassed. “Well… yeah.”
Hort laughed again. “Of course he could. And he wouldn’t be the only one, either.”
“You’re shitting me. There are gays in the unit?”
“Of course there are. And personally, I don’t care. All I give a damn about for any soldier is soldiering. Who a man wants to sleep with couldn’t matter less to me.”
Ben thought for a moment. He supposed what Hort was saying was true. He’d just never considered it before. It was hard to imagine any of the men he worked with could be gay, let alone an operator like Larison.
“It fits, though,” Hort said.
“What does?”
“Larison living a secret life. You asked about his motives, remember?”
“Being gay is a motive?”
“Not being gay as such. But having to live in the closet? Knowing you’ll face a discharge if anyone finds out, despite all your heroism in the field, despite the personal costs of what you’ve endured, despite how many American lives you’ve repeatedly saved? Look at what happened to Dan Choi, for God’s sake. The man was an Arab linguist, too. You know how badly we need those? I’ll tell you, we can make a terrorist talk, but we can’t get him to talk in English. And the army got rid of Choi anyway, just for being gay, a good man who wanted to serve his nation. It would take a better man than I am not to develop a grudge about that. And keeping that kind of secret, living a double life, especially with the kinds of pressures men like us already have to bear up under… I told you, I saw the signs. I guess I just didn’t know how bad it was.”