Jonathan was sitting in a metal chair in the center of the room. His left wrist was handcuffed to the chair arm. His right hand was free, but his right sleeve was covered in blood from what looked awfully like a bullet wound just below the shoulder. His ruined suit jacket had been tossed onto a gurney nearby.
There was a large orderly already in the room, carrying a large pistol. After Dr. Reyes followed me inside, the orderly moved to block the door. I know that must have happened, because he was there later, but I didn’t notice at the time.
I took a step toward Jonathan. “David?!”
I will never forget the look he gave me: his realization that, with everything I was feeling, I had remembered. “What is this?” I asked.
He looked at Reyes and answered, “A mistake.”
“Really.” Reyes didn’t sound very interested. He was already taking my laptop out of its case.
“A big one,” I added. “What do you think you’re…”
Reyes ignored me. He was only interested in Jonathan. “She delayed her visit for a week and arrived the day after you did. She spoke to you not five minutes after you met with me. She has spent the last six hours going through our financial records. And yet you expect me to believe that her presence here is coincidence?”
“I don’t expect you to believe anything,” said Jonathan, continuing to bleed. He looked at me: “Sorry.”
Reyes had opened my laptop. It gave its familiar start-up chime. I wanted to laugh, and then to cry: my computer still thought this was a normal day.
“Password,” said Reyes. I gave it to him. I didn’t dare look at Jonathan. I had used his birthday, for a reason that I was suddenly very much afraid he would misunderstand. When I set it up, I had told myself that it was the one number no one would expect me to use, but since I was having a hard time believing that right now, I didn’t think Jonathan would believe it, either.
But there were more pressing concerns, and I brought them up in a voice that was too loud because it was shaking. “I don’t know what’s going on here, and I don’t want to, and I promise I won’t say anything.” (That last bit was no longer true, but the lie came easily.) “But the Foundation knows I’m here, and…”
“Point,” agreed Jonathan, and if he wanted to take over I was happy to let him. “She can’t just disappear.”
“She won’t.” Reyes moved closer to me, but still addressed Jonathan. “On her way back to the airport, she will be tragically ambushed by the thieves who are such a sad fact of life in this country, and it will end badly. The only question is whether she will have been raped first.”
I felt my face go hot. I couldn’t control that, but I could and did look Reyes in the eye. And I rejoiced when he looked away. He took out his cell phone to send a brief text message, then returned to my computer.
“You won’t find anything there,” Jonathan told him.
“Maybe not. But I have a laptop and an internet connection. You could do everything I need right here.”
“Could,” agreed Jonathan. “Won’t.”
“And your partner?”
“I’ve told you she’s not…”
The door opened, and a second orderly came in, pushing Hector in front of him.
Hector took in the situation at a glance and clearly decided first things first. He took a step toward Jonathan, but Reyes shook his head. The orderly dragged Hector back. “If you want the doctor,” said Reyes, “you’ll have to pay in advance.”
Jonathan shrugged as well as he could. “I’ll save the money.”
I honestly don’t know whether I was surprised. About Hector, I mean. When I look back, it seems more than obvious. It seems inevitable. Standing there, watching him, I remembered that less than half an hour ago (if you care to measure in minutes) I had desperately wanted him to be what he seemed, had felt personally betrayed when he had appeared to be less. And all the time he had been more.
I think that time he must have read my thoughts. He gave me a smile that was equal parts laughter and apology. “I lied. It matters.” Then he looked back at Jonathan. “Bullet still in there?”
“Yeah. Any point in asking who you are?”
“No, but thanks.” Hector turned to Reyes, addressing him as if this were any other consultation. “He’s the only one who can do what you want. If you want him alive to do it, that bullet needs to come out and the bleeding has to be controlled.”
“Stop being a doctor,” snapped Jonathan.
“No,” answered Hector, and waited for Reyes.
Reyes said something to one of the orderlies, something that neither Jonathan nor Hector seemed to like. The man reached into his pocket and produced a nasty-looking clasp knife. There was nothing surgical or precise about it, which was clearly the point. I experienced a brief moment of nausea, anticipating what I was about to see.
Then I saw that the knife was being offered to me.
I backed away. “I can’t.” It came out as a whisper.
Reyes took the knife and came to stand in front of me. “If Mr. Blair would like Dr. Perez to take over, he knows what to do. If you prefer to wait and watch him bleed to death, that is your choice. But those are the only choices here.”
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