Deborah pulled off opposite the little marina by the old Herald building and parked the car facing back toward the Venetian Causeway. She was quiet for a moment, and then she hissed out her breath and said, I’m sorry.

That caught me a bit off guard, since I admit that I had been preparing to say something very similar, just to keep the social wheels greased. Almost certainly I would have phrased it in a slightly more clever way, but the same essence. For what?

I don’t mean to— I know you’re different, Dex. I’m really trying to get used to that and— But you’re still my brother.

Adopted, I said.

That’s horseshit and you know it. You’re my brother. And I know you’re only here because of me.

Actually, I was hoping I’d get to say ‘ten-four’ on the radio later.

She snorted. All right, be an asshole. But thanks anyway.

You’re welcome.

She picked up the radio. Doakes. What’s he doing?

After a brief pause, Doakes replied, Looks like he’s talking on a cell phone.

Deborah frowned and looked at me. If he’s running, who’s he going to talk to on the phone?

I shrugged. He might be arranging a way out of the country. Or—

I stopped. The idea was far too stupid to think about, and that should have kept it out of my head automatically, but somehow there it was, bouncing off the gray matter and waving a small red flag.

What? Deborah demanded.

I shook my head. Not possible. Stupid. Just a wild thought that won’t go away.

All right. How wild?

What if— Now I did say this was stupid.

It’s a lot stupider to dick around like this, she snapped. What’s the idea?

What if Oscar is calling the good Doctor and trying to bargain his way out? I said. And I was right; it did sound stupid.

Debs snorted. Bargain with what?

Well, I said, Doakes said he’s carrying a bag. So he could have money, bearer bonds, a stamp collection. I don’t know. But he probably has something that might be even more valuable to our surgical friend.

Like what?

He probably knows where everybody else from the old team is hiding.

Shit, she said. Give up everybody else in exchange for his life? She chewed on her lip as she thought that over. After a minute she shook her head. That’s pretty far-fetched, she said.

Far-fetched is a big step up from stupid, I said.

Oscar would have to know how to get in touch with the Doctor.

One spook can always find a way to get to another. There are lists and databases and mutual contacts, you know that. Didn’t you see Bourne Identity?

Yeah, but how do we know Oscar saw it? she said.

I’m just saying it’s possible.