Whitman gave her a look, and there the topic stopped dead in its tracks.

A uniform from immigration came on board just before they took off, but all he was interested in was baksheesh, which he came away with in spades. When they were airborne a flight attendant in a tight-fitting jacket and short skirt took their drinks order and told them breakfast would be served in thirty minutes.

Whitman turned to Orteño, “How you doing, m’man?”

“Tolerably well.” Flix looked at Charlie, then back to Whitman. “I’m a little put off by this sudden change in plan. Does Cutler know about this?”

“It was all planned,” Whitman lied.

“Then why wasn’t I told about it?”

“Security. Cutler doesn’t want a repeat and neither do I.”

Flix’s eyes switched to Charlie again. “You know about this?”

Her gaze held his challenging one without even the hint of a flinch. “I found out the same time you did. I assume it was all between Whit and Cutler.”

“Whit, is it?” Flix picked at his nails. “Little soon for that, no, chica?”

“I’m your armorer,” Charlie said with more than a trace of steel. “I’m not even chica to my friends.”

“Wrong friends,” Flix muttered, but his eyes slid down to his nails.

Whitman rose, slid into the seat next to Orteño. “What’s up with you, compadre?”

“Nothing.” Flix looked out the Perspex window.

“Doesn’t sound like nothing to me,” Whitman said softly. “You’ve been kind of spooky ever since you reported for this brief.”

“Huh! Really.”

“Hey, man, how long we know each other? How many briefs have we been on? How many times have we saved each other’s life? Something’s wrong, I can feel it. I mean, are we friends or are we not friends?”

Flix said nothing. The flight attendant brought breakfast, which the three of them ate in silence. Not until they were finished and the trays had been taken away did Flix turn to Whitman.

“You’re not gonna give up on this, are you?”

Whitman bared his teeth. “Nope.”

Flix heaved a deep sigh. “All right, fuck it.” He paused, appearing to be ordering his thoughts. “Okay, you remember me telling you about my niece Lucy? I showed you her picture?”

“Sure. The runaway.”

Flix nodded. “She’s been found.”

“That’s great news.”

“No, it’s not, Whit. The cops have her on felony drug possession charges.”

“No problem. I’ll get Cutler to—”

“She crossed state lines.”

“Ah. So the FBI is involved.”

Flix hung his head. “I went to see her. She hardly knew who I was. It was so bad, I haven’t had the heart to tell Marilena. I mean, what’s the point? She’s already had her heart broken once.”