“Well, what do we do about this guy Nico? He’s our connection.”
“I need to get his coordinates to the NSA. We’ve got enough now to figure out who he is, where he lives and works, all his particulars. If we’re really lucky, we’ll uncover something linked directly to Larison. Even if not, it sounds like this guy could be our big break. Good work, son.”
Ben felt that embarrassing flush of pride he always got when Hort praised his performance. He said, “Assume we get Nico’s particulars. What do we do then? Snatch him, exchange him for the tapes?”
There was a pause. “I don’t know yet. That decision is likely to be made above our pay grade.”
Ben was intrigued, both by the pause and by the reference to “our” pay grade, as though the two of them were not just on the same team on this, but also somehow equal.
“Okay,” Ben said.
“You should know,” Hort said. “There’s also been some discussion about his wife and son.”
“You mean a snatch?”
“That’s what I mean.”
It wasn’t his place to say, and he almost didn’t. But the thought of taking a kid, and the wife, too, Marcy… it just made him queasy. It wouldn’t be right.
“I don’t know, Hort. Snatching a kid? I mean, come on.”
“I agree. And I’ve made the argument that it would be worse than immoral-it would be tactically stupid. From everything you’ve learned, I think we can assume the wife and son wouldn’t even be a pressure point. Larison didn’t provide for them, the woman said it wasn’t a happy marriage-”
“Marcy. Her name is Marcy Wheeler.”
“I know. And after what you’ve learned about Larison, I’m wondering whether the boy is even his. Anyway, the bottom line is, Larison cared about them so much he faked his death and disappeared. I doubt he’d lose a whole lot of sleep if someone were threatening them now.”
Okay, that was good. Didn’t sound like anyone was particularly inclined to go after Larison’s family. Probably just the kind of pseudo tough-guy talk he imagined suits liked to pleasure themselves with. And Hort certainly wasn’t for it.
“What do you want me to do in the meantime?” Ben said.
“There’s nothing you really can do, except sit tight. How’s that FBI agent, Lanier? She giving you any trouble?”
“All kinds of trouble. But nothing I can’t handle.”
“Well, let’s see what we learn about this guy Nico and what the powers that be want to do after that. After tonight, it might make sense to shake her loose.”
“Roger that.”
There was another pause. Ben said, “Is everything… are we getting some kind of interference on this?”
Hort said, “Why do you ask?” and oddly, Ben imagined him smiling.
“I don’t know. Just… I was thinking about what’s on those tapes. A lot of people must be sweating.”
“They are. And I’ll tell you about people who are sweating. The sweat gets in their eyes, makes it hard for them to see clearly.”
“Anything I need to worry about?”
“Worrying is my job. Your job is to get some sleep now. I might be calling you in just a few hours with an update.”
“Okay.”
“Again, good work, son. What you’ve done might have cracked this thing wide open. I’m proud to say I work with you.”
Coming from Hort, this was extreme praise. Ben was simultaneously touched that he would say it, and also concerned about what was going on in the background that could be making him feel, what? Sentimental? Or like he needed an ally?
“Well,” Ben said, thinking of Obsidian, “there are still a few things you and I need to work on. But… thank you.”
“Just get some sleep now. We don’t know what’s going to happen tomorrow.”
Hort clicked off. His parting words were of course a simple statement of fact, but they were also somehow ominous.
Ben thought about just getting in bed and telling Paula they could either share or she could sleep on the damn floor. But that feeling of unseen forces was still torquing up his paranoia. The hell with it. He grabbed an extra blanket from the closet, folded it into a sleeping pallet, and placed it along the wall on the hinged side of the door. He grabbed a pillow from the bed and tossed it onto the pallet. Yeah, he’d sleep better this way. Because if anyone breached the room, the bed would be the initial focus. It would be interesting to see Paula sweet-talk her way out of that particular cycle of violence.
And then he felt bad. Yeah, she was driving him crazy. But he didn’t want anything to happen to her, either. If the room were breached, that bed would be the initial big red X. She thought no one ever saw her coming? She didn’t know some of the guys he worked with. In night vision goggles, she’d show up just fine.
Paula emerged from the bathroom wearing a hotel robe, beads of water clinging to her face and neck. She looked good.
Ben sighed. “I know I’m wasting my breath, but it probably wouldn’t be the worst idea to drag the mattress on the floor and put it up against the door. A bed is just too easy to key on when you breach a room.”
“Are you expecting company tonight?”
“If I were expecting it, I wouldn’t be here. It’s just some extra insurance, that’s all. This thing is big. And a little weird, somehow. Can’t you feel that?”
“Well, it’s definitely a little weird. My team is being treated in an Orlando hospital for injuries inflicted by the man with whom I’m spending the night in a San Jose hotel. Whose identity, I might add, remains a mystery. So yes, you could say it’s out of the ordinary.”
“If you want to move the mattress, I’ll help you.”
“It’s fine where it is. But thank you.”
Ben nodded and looked away. He was surprised at how much he wished he could get through to her. But he didn’t see how. “Well, if you’re done with the bathroom,” he said, “I’m going to take a shower.”
“Feel free.”
He walked to the bathroom and paused at the door. “I’m going to leave it open, okay?”
“What?”
“I’m sorry, with the water running, I won’t be able to hear what’s going on outside the door. I can deal with not seeing or not hearing, but not both. So no peeking. Unless you want to.”
She looked at him for a long moment. “Either you are a certified paranoid, or an incorrigible exhibitionist.”
“Well, I’m not an exhibitionist, as far as I know.”
He paused, trying to find the right words. “I know you think I’m a prick, and you’re probably right. But I can tell you this: my radar’s pretty good. It’s saved my ass more times than I can count, and right now, it’s telling me that something is… going on with these tapes that we can’t see. It’s making me jumpy. And if you were smart, you’d be jumpy, too.”
“Jumpy’s not my style.”
He nodded, and for a moment felt unaccountably sad. “Yeah? Well, it probably wasn’t Carlos or Juan Cole’s, either.”
19. I Will Burn You
Ulrich paced in his office, tugging on his beard, continually fighting the urge to pick up the secure line and call Clements one more time. He’d heard from his contact and there was a lot of news, but he couldn’t make full sense of it without Clements’s input. He’d sent two emails and left three messages and the son of a bitch still hadn’t gotten back to him. It was maddening. Back in the day Ulrich could have had an admin raise Clements on the phone inside a minute anytime, day or night, and Ulrich wouldn’t even bother picking up the phone until he’d been told Clements was already on the line, waiting for him.