Javier looks at me again and this time he chuckles. “A translator,” he says in Spanish. “I can guess why he picked you. It’s not so different from those female bodyguards that Gadhafi used to surround himself with.”

“Gadhafi was a dictator and a tyrant,” I answer, also in Spanish. “Mr. Gable is just my employer.”

Travis’s eyes jump back and forth between us. “What are you saying?” he asks irritably.

“He says I’m far prettier than Gadhafi’s female bodyguards,” I tell him. “And I replied that those women had no choice but to serve Gadhafi, whereas I decided to work for you.”

It’s a test of sorts. I want to see if Travis will recognize that I’ve bastardized the translation or if Javier understands enough English to correct me. But Travis accepts what I say and Javier remains silent.

“Shall we get a table?” Travis says amiably, which I translate. Javier is dressed head-to-toe in Gucci. His watch is a Rolex. He’s waving his wealth around like a flag. In so many ways he could fit into Travis’s world . . .

. . . except there’s something about the way he walks . . . and the way he keeps glancing toward the door and windows, and the way he insists on taking the seat where his back is to the wall.

It all reminds me too much of Micah.

We’re seated and I give a weak smile to Javier, who smiles back with a little more enthusiasm. He smells of expensive cigars mixed with dabs of cologne. In minutes we’ve given our order and are drinking our margaritas on the rocks. Travis immediately launches into an explanation of what kind of account he’d like to open for Javier and the virtues of HGVB, and for his part Javier asks about the security of the bank and exchange rates. It’s an odd conversation, not just because it would be more at home conducted in a bank’s office than in a bar, but also because of what’s not being said. Travis’s words are being carefully chosen. He tells Javier about the bank’s privacy policies and security more than he goes over growth rates or investment opportunities. Interest rate information is glossed over. Loan options aren’t even mentioned. Instead he talks about recommended currency exchange houses and remote deposit capture.

Javier listens attentively, if unenthusiastically. The men continue to talk in numbers and policies as I work as a go-between, conveying information without gaining much insight myself.

But there’s something here. For one thing, between Travis’s over-the-top loyalty test and his eagerness to blackmail me, I just know he’s bringing me close to secrets, secrets he wouldn’t let me anywhere near unless he had strong assurance that I could be a trusted witness to his duplicity.