A very Snowden pushed his chair back from the makeshift table and rolled his shoulders, his eyes on Abner Tookus, who looked like a zombie. They’d been locked in this room way too long. He looked down at the watch on his wrist. Yes, way too long. He snapped his fingers in Abner’s direction. “C’mon, kid, we’re heading out for some fresh air and a bite to eat. I’m full up of trail mix. I need real food. Like now would be good, Abner!”

Abner stirred, struggled to focus, and finally stood up. “Okay,” he muttered. He looked around as though seeing the room for the first time. He squinted and took a deep breath. “What about them?” he asked, pointing to Snowden’s operatives, who were busy tapping away on computers. “I still don’t know how you managed to secure this room and set up this makeshift station in less than three hours. I know for a fact these rooms are booked a year in advance, and yet here we are, six computers, four printers, three fax machines, and five different telephone lines. How’d you do it, you crazy Brit?”

The old spy whipped out a card from his pocket and waved it about. Abner grabbed for it. “Ah, I see,” he said, eyeing the platinum courtesy card signed by Countess Anna de Silva, with a handwritten message underneath her signature that said every courtesy was to be shown to the holder of the card immediately on presentation.

“It’s all in who you know, you know that, Abner. You okay, kid?”

They were on the way down the long hallway to the main lobby of Babylon before Abner trusted himself to speak. “No, I’m not all right. I wish I had listened to you. I can’t get those pictures out of my mind. You should have kicked my ass out of here.”

“I tried. I warned you. You wouldn’t listen to me. You wouldn’t listen to your friend Phil, either.”

It was true, and Abner had no comeback as he pushed through the revolving door. He waited to see which way Snowden wanted to go. Snowden moved right. “There’s a gourmet hot dog emporium a block away.” They made the trek in silence. Neither man spoke until they were settled in a bright green leather booth that was roomy enough for six. Snowden gave his order: four dogs with the works and a pitcher of ale. The waiter looked at Abner, who ordered a soft roll and coffee that he knew he wasn’t going to eat or drink.

“This is Annie’s favorite eatery, did you know that?” Snowden asked.

“No, I didn’t know that, but it doesn’t surprise me since hot dogs are her favorite food. How the hell can you even think about eating after what we’ve been doing?” Abner grumbled.