Inside Outt

shit.
    “Look,” he said, “for what it’s worth, I’ve been ordered to stand down, too.”
    “You have not.”
    “Yeah, I have.”
    “What about Larison?”
    “He’s someone else’s problem now.”
    “You can just care, and then not care, like flipping a light switch?”
    “You’re assuming I cared to begin with.”
    “You know, I’ll bet a lot of people believe you when you tell them something like that. I’ll bet there are times when you even believe yourself.”
    “Look, it’s too early in the morning for you to psychoanalyze me, okay? Why don’t you just fly back to Washington, and next time I’m in town, we can have a drink.”
    “I don’t think so.”
    “You don’t drink?”
    “I don’t think I’m just flying back to Washington with my wings clipped. And I don’t think you are, either.”
    Ben didn’t answer. It felt like it was her move.
    “You’re not, are you?”
    He sighed. “I’m supposed to observe.”
    “You’re not a very good liar.”
    “Actually, I’m an accomplished liar. It just that this time, I’m not lying.”
    “Tell me what’s going on.”
    “I don’t know, exactly. All I know is my team is out, and some other team has been brought in. My coach doesn’t think the new team understands the game and is going to lose. Badly. He wants me to be on hand.”
    “In case they need a pinch hitter?”
    “Just to observe.”
    “Well, that sounds good to me.”
    “Look—”
    “Don’t even start. I’m not going to just walk away. So we can do this separately and trip each other up, or we can keep coordinating.”
    “I don’t know that our coordination has been all that coordinated.”
    “We’ve gotten this far.”
    Ben knew he could lose her easily enough. But he didn’t know what her people knew. If they’d briefed her on Nico’s particulars, losing her wouldn’t help. She’d just be waiting wherever he arrived.
    “Let’s get some breakfast,” he said. “I don’t know when we’ll get another chance. It feels like something big and bad is on the way, and I want to be in position when it arrives.”

CHAPTER 23
One Way or the Other
    L arison waited in front of the gate at JFK for his flight to San Salvador, his eyes moving from the announcements board to the faces of the people swirling through the area and then back again. He wanted desperately to fly directly to San Jose International, but if they had the resources to watch airports, that would be the one they’d key on. From San Salvador he could catch a nonstop to one of the smaller towns—Limón or Tamarindo or Quepos—and then finish the journey by train or bus. Or better yet, by motorcycle.
    He was still shaky. He’d called from a Jersey City motel room, expecting the conversation to be brief and one-sided, expecting them to be meek, even if it was just playacting while they tried to buy themselves time. He was going to be in complete control. So he’d never really recovered from the first words they said to him:
    Hello, Daniel Larison.
    He’d made it through the call. He listened wordlessly as they explained how they would send contractors to rape Nico’s nieces and nephews and mutilate his parents and sisters and brothers-in-law, and then, when the happiness, the coherence, the sanity of Nico’s family had been torn and broken and shattered, they would explain to Nico why it had all happened. Because of the man Nico was seeing, who wasn’t who he said he was. Who did a stupid thing to antagonize powerful people, who kept on doing it even after he’d been warned of the consequences to Nico and his family.
    When they stopped talking, Larison had paused for a moment to demonstrate his composure. When he spoke, his voice was calm, emotionless, the same voice he would have used had he not heard a single word they’d just uttered. He said,
I’ll call again on Friday with instructions on how to deliver the diamonds. If you don’t deliver, I will release the tapes. And anything that happens to Nico or his family will seem mild after what I will do to you and yours.
    Then he had hung up. For a long moment he stood still, his eyes unfocused, his heart hammering. Then his legs buckled and he collapsed and curled up on the floor on his side and sobbed uncontrollably for almost ten minutes. He knew he had to move—triangulating on a cloned satellite call was almost impossible, but it was almost impossible that they’d identified him so quickly, too. But he couldn’t move. Shame and