Undoubtedly one of the many lies people in their business told every day. This wasn’t a situation where you sent texts back and forth about the weather. And this particular exchange went on for almost five minutes before Rapp tossed the phone on the floorboard and demolished it with the heel of his boot.

Less than six hours, Nash reminded himself as his old friend went back to staring blankly through the windshield. Less than six more hours and this would all be behind him.

A brightly painted railway container with windows cut in it appeared at the edge of the road. When Rapp saw the gas pump out front, he broke from his trance.

“Why don’t we stop and fill up. I need to take a piss anyway.”

Nash pulled over and Rapp got out, disappearing into the shadows at the edge of the dirt parking area for a moment before entering the improvised building. When he reappeared, he was holding a couple of cans of Coke and a bag of chips. Nash finished filling the tank and slid back into the driver’s seat. “Mine?” he said, pointing to the can on his side of the console.

Rapp nodded and then spoke through a mouthful of chips. “We’re going to have to take a right up here in about a mile.”

“A right?” Nash made sure his voice didn’t betray his confusion. The map that had been included with Kennedy’s deep fake didn’t say anything about getting off the main road yet.

“The guy at the gas station says a bridge got washed out up ahead. We have to go around. Should only be a couple hours out of our way.”

“Out of our way to where?”

Rapp didn’t answer, instead holding out the bag so Nash could dig in. He did so, keeping his body language relaxed. Inside, though, he was feeling very differently. The six hours he’d steeled himself for had just become eight. Not that it mattered to the operation—he’d given his ETA as a forty-eight-hour window rather than a precise time. He just wanted this done.

The turn appeared in the headlights and Nash exited the tarmac in favor of a dirt road not quite wide enough for two cars to comfortably pass. Based on the emptiness of the landscape at that time of morning, though, it likely wouldn’t be an issue.

Two hours turned into five—including three river crossings and a couple of opportunities to test the SUV’s winch. Finally, they dead-ended into a paved two-lane road.

“Which way?” Nash said.

“Right. We’re back on track. This is the same road we turned off of after the gas station.”