“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.”

“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?”