Henson’s convoy had arrived in the middle of some kind of dust-up with a group of refugees, and the document’s streaky illegibility seemed low on the list of the soldier’s concerns. She gave it a cursory glance. “You’re lucky you didn’t lose your head along with the rest of it. Luckier still you ran into Henson. She’s a treasure. Staying long?”

“Only long enough to book passage. No offense meant, but I think I’ve had enough of this bit of the world for a while.”

She snapped his passport shut so hard the pages slapped, and told him, “Have a swift trip,” rather than a pleasant one.

It was late by the time Lillian got home. She had offered to drop Kostos at his flat, and then Daoud at his hotel. Magnusson was there to let her in, and offered to pour a whiskey. Remembering the empty decanter from the other night, she declined until he assured her there was half a case in the pantry. Money, or lack thereof, was never mentioned. He was simply smart enough to know her mind.

“I’ve got to make a call,” she said. “But you can go on to bed. I won’t need you anymore tonight.”

“Thank you, ma’am,” he said, and left her alone.

She twisted the dial, picking out Rinko’s home exchange. It was past any kind of polite time to call, but time was another thing she was short on. She didn’t want Kostos changing his mind, deciding she hadn’t held up her end of the bargain. She wanted insurance. And she wanted to talk to a friend.

“Hello?” Disembodied, without the distraction of her immaculate presence, Rinko’s voice sounded tired. Lillian glanced at the clock on her desk and cringed.

“Rinko,” said Lillian. “It’s me. I—”

“Lillian?” She was angry. Of course she was.

“I’m so sorry I haven’t called. Or sent a check. I’ve been—”

“Busy of course, but you’re all right?”

“Sorry?” She kept her voice low, conscious of Jinadh and Stephen asleep upstairs.

“I hadn’t heard from you. And I was worried you’d been … oh, who knows. I don’t know what I thought.”

That she had disappeared into a cell, warrantless. Or something along those lines. “I’m fine. Or, not fine, but … I’m making my way.” She picked at a loose upholstery tack on the seat of her chair. “I thought you might be cross with me.”

The laughter on the other end of the line was more a sigh. “You didn’t jump out the back of a prison transport and leave me standing like a fool in front of the judge.”