After a moment, he returned to the stool he’d dropped onto earlier, and as he sat down, he rezipped the neck of his fleece—which was how she knew she was going to get the truth, or some measure of it: He was pulling himself back together, regaining who he was.

“When I was in the army as an officer, I served in Vietnam, as you know,” he said in the direct, matter-of-fact tone that she’d heard all her life. “Then I went to law school, and I was supposed to go back to civilian life. But I didn’t really get out of the military. I’ve never really been out.”

“The people who came to the door?” she said, realizing it was the first time she’d ever spoken about them.

“It’s the kind of thing that you never really leave. You can’t get out.” He pointed to the card. “I know that number. I’ve dialed that number. It takes you right into the heart . . . of the beast.”

He went on to speak in general terms, offering loose description instead of clear definitions, but she filled in the blanks: It was government ninja-style, the kind of thing that justified the paranoia of conspiracy theorists, the sort of organization that you were likely to see in movie theaters and comic books, but that sane civilians didn’t believe really existed.

“I don’t want that”—he jabbed his finger at the card again—“anywhere near you. The idea of that . . . man . . .”

When he didn’t finish, she felt compelled to point out, “You haven’t really told me anything.”

He shook his head. “But that’s the thing—it’s all I’ve got. I’m on the fringes, Grier. So I know just enough to be clear about the danger.”

“What exactly did you do for . . . whoever ‘them’ is?”

“Information gathering—I was strictly in intelligence. I never killed anybody.” As if there were a whole murder department. “A big part of what drives the machine is information, and I have gone out and gotten it, and brought it back. I have also been called upon from time to time for my opinion on certain international figures or corporations or governments. But again, I’ve never killed.”

She was incredibly relieved there was no blood on his hands. “Are you still involved?”

“Like I said, you’re never truly out. But I haven’t had an assignment in . . .” Long pause. “Two years.”