“What about interviews?” she said. “Exclusive interviews. The kind no one else can get. People will spew all kinds of swineshit—lies, slander, rumors, libel—and all you’ve done is given them space to say it. If the story turns out to be false, nobody’s going to pin you. You’re just the platform.”

More silence. Then, “I’d have to talk to the desk.”

“And how long will that take?” she asked.

“Department meeting’s early next week.”

“What if you aired your conversation with Daoud tomorrow, and used it as proof of concept? It would give you some numbers to go on.”

“Won’t hurt you none, either,” Kostos said, “eating up the airwaves with this shock and awe. It’ll put lesser concerns—like escaped convicts—out of people’s heads.”

“I’d be lying if I said that wasn’t a consideration.” Lillian brought them around the end of the block. Black water spread out below. A distant buoy blinked, and the lighthouse at the end of the spits spun slowly, casting its beacon into the dark.

The pop of a match filled the car with sulfur stink, and Kostos lit a cigarette. “It ain’t a bad idea for a show.”

“So you’ll do it?” asked Daoud.

“I might. But that’s just one interview. What about the night after that, and the next one, and the next? Who am I supposed to talk to then?”

Lillian made the mistake of looking into the mirror again, and found him staring straight at her, eyes lit by the ember of his straight.

“Give-and-take,” said Kostos. “I’ll put him on air if you come after him. And, get your brother’s lawyer on to talk.”

“That’s not quite fair,” she said. “Two for one?”

“I don’t know,” said Kostos. “That’s supply and demand, ain’t it? How badly do you want me to air this interview?”

This was why she hated to show her hand. People were never kind about it; they played to win the kitty. “All right, fine. You can put me on the air.”

“And Higata?”

She willed down the part of her that wanted to cry, to slam the heel of her hand hard on the steering wheel. “I’ll do my best, but I can’t promise anything. I’m not sure what sort of terms we’re on, at present.” When Kostos didn’t reply, she said, “Does that suit you?”

He exhaled a thread of smoke and shrugged. “Ain’t like a tailor, but it’ll do for now.”

They barely made the convoy, scrambling into a truck bed sometime after the sun had set. Engines coughed and rumbled. Diesel smoke made the cold air noxious.