“Jesus!” I shook my head. This was different from the other conversations I’d had with Rubino. The stakes were so much higher. There was so little room to maneuver. “What has Navarre been working on?”

“It’s sick. They are building a weapon that attacks the human brain. It sends signals to brain cells that make them die.”

“My God! They’ve turned his research inside out.” I remembered Navarre and his mice, and how he had beamed when he talked about the miracle that had made the idiot mice smart again. “He was working on a way to heal the brain,” I said, “and now they’ve made it into a weapon. Why did Navarre let them do that?”

“He had no choice. That’s the point. He’s a prisoner, and you may be the only person who can get in to see him. That’s what I need from you, Eric. If you do the reporting, you may be able to stop these experiments. Would you be willing to try?”

“Of course I would.” It just came out. I didn’t think about it, it seemed so obviously the right thing to do. And though I might like to pretend otherwise now, I understood what I was doing. The chief of the European operations division of the CIA was asking me to undertake a mission for him overseas, which he couldn’t accomplish any other way. He was “tasking” me.

“Good man,” said Rubino, smiling. He sat back in his chair. I hadn’t realized how tense he had been until I saw him relax now.

“I want you to talk to someone, to get ready,” he said. “She’s a biologist who works for the agency. Her name is Alicia Ginsburg. She understands this stuff much better than I do. She can give you a primer on the basic science, so that you’ll be able to ask Navarre the right questions.”

“That’s it?” I said. “You just want me to ask questions?”

“There’s one more thing. If you’re able to see Navarre, I’d like you to give him a message. I can’t give it to you now, because it’s too sensitive. I don’t want to be melodramatic, but it can save his life, and maybe others’, too.”

Rubino’s six-year-old daughter wandered downstairs. She was carrying her coat on her arm, brandishing it as a reproach to her father. “Daddy,” she said. “You promised you would buy me a new guinea pig.” She turned to me to explain: “Fifi is dead.”

“In a few minutes, sweetie. Daddy is still talking to his friend. Then I promise I’ll take you to the pet store.”