I was fairly sure we both knew exactly what I meant by Central America, but I thought saying El Salvador might have been a bit too much; it wouldn’t do to lose my casual, it’s-just-a-hobby credentials. But my whole purpose for coming had been to find out about Doakes, and when you see an opening—well, I admit it had been a little obvious, but it had apparently worked. Oh, I said. Isn’t that right? All those years of practice in imitating human expressions paid off for me here as I put on my best innocently curious face.

Kyle apparently couldn’t decide if that was right. He worked his jaw muscles and unclenched his fists.

I should have warned you, Deborah said. He’s good at this.

Chutsky let out a big breath and shook his head. Yeah, he said. With a visible effort he leaned back and flicked on his smile again. Pretty good, buddy. How’d you come up with all that?

Oh, I don’t know, I said modestly. It just seemed obvious. The hard part is figuring out how Sergeant Doakes is involved.

Jesus H. Christ, he said, and clenched his fists again. Deborah looked at me and laughed, not exactly the same kind of laugh she had given Kyle, but still, it felt good to know she could remember now and then that we were on the same team. I told you he’s good, she said.

Jesus Christ, Kyle said again. He pumped one index finger unconsciously, as if squeezing an invisible trigger, then turned his sunglasses in Deb’s direction. You’re right about that, he said, and turned back to me. He watched me hard for a moment, possibly to see if I would bolt for the door or start speaking Arabic, and then he nodded. What’s this about Sergeant Doakes?

You’re not just trying to drop Doakes in the shit, are you? Deborah asked me.

In Captain Matthews’s conference room, I said, when Kyle saw Doakes for the first time, there was a moment when I thought they recognized each other.

I didn’t notice that, Deborah said with a frown.

You were busy blushing, I said. She blushed again, which I thought was a little redundant. Besides, Doakes was the one who knew who to call when he saw the crime scene.

Doakes knows some stuff, Chutsky admitted. From his military service.

What kind of stuff? I asked. Chutsky looked at me for a long time, or anyway his sunglasses did. He tapped on the table with that silly pinkie ring and the sunlight flashed off the large diamond in the center. When he finally spoke it felt like the temperature at our table had dropped ten degrees.